Smokescreens
by nicol-leoraine
Summary: Tony has a bad day that may turn into a bad week. First there's a fire, then a dead body and well... the rest is in the story.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N:**_** This is my first attempt at an NCIS fic, as well as my first attempt at writing after almost a year, so please bear with me folks, lol. This fic was beta read by Andrea, for which I'm really grateful. All mistakes remaining are solely mine. Now, go off to the story before you fall asleep - grin -**

**Smokescreens**

It just wasn't his day, Tony thought when he finally made it to work, tired and a little shaky and it wasn't even lunchtime yet! Not far from it though, he realised when he looked at his watch. He wondered if Gibbs hadn't called him to say that he didn't need to come to work anymore because he'd been fired, for the moment happy that he hadn't his phone. True, he was late only by an hour, but still…Gibbs was Gibbs. And it wasn't like Tony didn't have a damn good reason. The elevator door opened and Tony stepped out, ready to face the music. He made it as far as Ziva's desk, when three pair of eyes turned to him, scrutinizing.

Surprisingly, it wasn't Gibbs who was the first to speak, but McGee.

"You're late, Tony," the probie pointed out snidely, glad he had one up on DiNozzo. He still hadn't forgiven him for his latest stunt, when Tony somehow got hold of the keys for McGee's car and parked it at the other end of the parking lot, making Tim think that it was stolen.

Ziva was also ready to say something, but then she frowned and her nose twitched.

"Why do I smell smoke?"

Tony paused, a frown on his own face as he sniffed at his shirt, then with a resigned shrug headed for his desk.

"That's probably me. Sorry for being late, boss. Won't happen again," he croaked and then cringed at the quality of his voice. True, he hadn't tried speaking to anyone other than the medics, and he had figured his voice would recover once he got some fresh air. Guess it didn't help; he sighed, then stifled a cough that tickled at the back of his throat.

"Just _why_ do you smell like smoke, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, eyes sharp as ever taking in Tony's appearance and noticing the dark smudges on his shirt and pants, as well as a little dark spot on his neck, which he hadn't noticed when he was cleaning himself up. When he saw his agent hesitating with the reply, Gibbs walked over to him and leaned against Tony's desk, then said in a voice that didn't leave place for discussion: "DiNozzo! I want to hear what happened and I want to hear it now! No bullshit! Is that clear?"

"Yes boss," Tony rasped out and Gibbs rolled his eyes.

"McGee, get the man some water," Gibbs barked and with another 'yes boss', McGee leapt out of his chair and went to fetch some water. When he returned, Gibbs was still leaning over Tony's desk and Ziva was now standing next to him, throwing DiNozzo concerned looks while he was busy hacking up his lungs.

"Here." McGee pushed the bottle of water into Tony's hand. They all waited until Tony stopped coughing, and took a swing from the bottle, then turned to Gibbs.

"Do you need Ducky?"

"No boss," Tony quickly protested, shaking his head. "The medics said I'm fine. It's just a little smoke inhalation."

Gibbs raised his eyebrows.

"Hmm. And did you mention to these medics that you've had a previous acquaintance with plague?"

"Um…kinda forgot, boss," Tony admitted sheepishly then glared at McGee and Ziva, who exchanged an eye roll.

"Yeah, I thought so," Gibbs said sharply and his eyes glinted. He reached out and Tony flinched, anticipating a head slap, but instead Gibb's hand just brushed off the smudge on his neck.

"So, care to explain why you were in such close proximity to a fire?"

Tony glanced at all three of them and noticed that several of the people around them had also stopped working and were listening. Gibbs noticed it too and threw a quick warning look to those who weren't fast enough to pretend that they _were_ working. Like magic, there was a rustle of papers and clicking of keyboards coming to life and Gibbs smirked, turning back to Tony.

"Report DiNozzo, now!"

"Yes boss. Uh..." Tony cleared his throat, wishing for another sip of water, but thinking it would be best to just get over with it. "I told you about that new guy that moved into an apartment next to mine two weeks ago, right?"

"The one that was drilling holes in the wall at six in morning, on Sunday?" McGee piped up and Tony only nodded, an annoyed look on his face.

"Well, he was totally into the home improvement stuff and all that crap," he shook his head disapprovingly. "I still don't get it how someone can get so gung ho about it-"

"DiNozzo," came the warning and Tony leaned back in his chair, rubbing the back of his neck to try and ease the tension there.

"Right, well, I'm just saying that guy was nuts. I'm not sure what he was trying to do in the middle of the night...but whatever it was, he blew it. Literally. One moment I'm sleeping, the next kaboom! And half of my bed is lying _on top of me_." Tony grimaced at the memory. He'd been dreaming when the explosion hit, and groggy with the remains of sleep, the dream and the confusion of his abrupt awakening, Tony had a sudden flashback to another explosion that had taken Paula's life. He still felt the pain inside his chest and the trouble he'd had breathing, still heard his first words in the deafening silence that followed, calling out Paula's name. But that wasn't something Gibbs or the others needed to know.

"When I finally realised what happened, there was already smoke coming from the living room."

"Your living room?" McGee asked, puzzled.

"Yeah. My living room was right next to the guy's living room, which he obviously used as a workshop, or whatever. When it blew up, the shock wave demolished the wall. Some pieces of whatever exploded were on fire and it spread. The smoke alarm went off even though it wasn't much use, I'm sure the explosion woke up everyone in the block. I grabbed my gun and some clothes and got the hell out of Dodge. I still wasn't sure what happened. People were running out from their apartments and it was quite chaotic for a while. When the firefighters arrived, our floor was already evacuated. That was around five in the morning," Tony said, his voice threatening to give up, so he took few more swallows of the water.

"Why the hell didn't you call, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked and Tony flinched in surprise at the angry tone.

"I couldn't find my cell, I think it's still somewhere under the bed. The whole building was evacuated, everybody was running around. Then I got caught up with the medics and couldn't get away."

In fact, Tony was still a little unsure of how he'd managed to slip out of the ambulance. Most of the morning's events were still a little hazy. He remembered helping some of his older neighbours to get out of the building, then everything went black and he woke up in the ambulance, gulping down a hefty dose of O2 through the mask and trying to push away the offending light that was piercing his head in two. He started arguing almost instantly, because the last place he wanted to go was the hospital, but the medic only pushed him back down onto the stretcher. It was his lucky break that due to a big car wreck there was only one other ambulance, so the paramedics needed to treat several other people before they could drive off. Tony used the moment when the medic was trying to assure an old lady that the cat that was in her arms was fine and wasn't in any immediate danger, and that she should rather take it to the veterinarian, and slipped away.

Of course, he wasn't about to tell this to Gibbs or the others, just as he wasn't planning to tell them about how he managed to sneak back into his apartment an hour later. The fire had been put out by the firefighters and now the place was swarming with the CSU guys, inspectors and cops. When he realised he knew one of the guys, he'd had no problem persuading him to let him in to get some stuff.

Once in his apartment, he grabbed an overnight bag, and stuffed it with his clothes from the wardrobe that thankfully had withstood the blast as well as the fire. Then he took out some cash from the little safe in the wall of his bedroom, his spare gun and his badge. He took a quick sad look around. His DVD collection might've survived intact, but the same thing couldn't be said of his tv or stereo. Heck, his whole living room was an unsalvageable mess. Not to mention the hole that was glaring at him from the wall. No way that he would be sleeping in that apartment anytime soon.

"Tony!"

"Huh?" he blinked and looked up into the concerned faces. "Sorry, just thinking."

"Right," muttered Ziva with a smile that said 'that explains everything'. Tony would've glared at her, but he noticed the scrutinizing look Gibbs was giving him, and he nervously cleared his throat.

"That still doesn't explain why you didn't call us and why you're late, DiNozzo. I doubt the paramedics kept you for five hours."

"Um, no. But you know how it works, boss. There were some people that needed help-"

"And I bet they were all hot chicks," Ziva muttered and McGee snickered, but stopped at Gibbs' glare.

"I wanted to know what the hell happened, so I waited while the firefighters let in the forensics guys and tried to get some info."

"What did they find?"

Tony shrugged, then took another sip from the bottle.

"Not much. Looks like Mr Casper was messing around with some glues and stuff... he had several buckets of it. It was a little unstable. They weren't sure but there's a chance that he was smoking when it all blew up."

"Idiot," Gibbs uttered with a head shake. "Did he survive?" he asked after a moment and Tony's look sobered when he answered:

"When the fire brigade got there, he was already dead. Burns on ninety percent of his body. Bastard was probably lucky he didn't survive," he added with a sigh.

Gibbs straightened up and looked at Ziva.

"Agent David, I believe you are still due with that report for Russell's case file," Gibbs stated and earned a surprised look from Ziva. It looked as if she wanted to protest, but she thought better of it and returned to her desk, pretending to work on the computer, while she kept an eye on DiNozzo.

"McGee, find out who is the head investigator in that explosion. I want his report on my desk before the ink can dry and I want Abby to check in with the CSU that are investigating it, to look over the evidence."

"I'm on it, boss," McGee answered with a curt smile and sat behind his computer, already picking up his phone.

"DiNozzo, you're with me."

"Boss?" Tony asked, but didn't get a reply because Gibbs was already halfway to the elevator. Tony jumped from his seat to keep up with him, but stumbled and had to catch himself on the desk, blinking.

"Tony?" Ziva asked, frowning.

"'m okay, just a headrush," Tony mumbled then quickly walked after Gibbs, who was eyeing him from the elevator.

"Where-" he started to ask, but stopped when he saw Gibbs push the down button, to autopsy. Tony let out a frustrated sigh and looked defiantly at Gibbs.

"I'm fine, boss."

Gibbs only raised an eyebrow and Tony huffed, looking away, knowing that this was a lost fight.

"Okay, whatever," he said, resigned. They were riding in silence, but Tony was getting more and more restless. He knew Gibbs didn't talk much, but the silence was getting unbearable.

"Do you really think there's something hinky about that explosion?" he finally asked and heard a sigh from Gibbs.

"I don't know. But I don't like it when things explode near my people. It might've been a fluke accident, or something else."

"Like what?" Tony pressed. True, Casper had moved in only a short time ago and despite his home improvement obsession, or maybe _because_ of it, he should've known better than to work with chemicals in a closed space while smoking. It was an idiotic mistake, even in Tony's book.

"I don't know, DiNozzo. That's why I want to take a closer look."

If Gibbs wanted to say more, he didn't, because they reached their floor and the elevator door opened with a ding. Tony stepped out, following Gibbs with a pained grimace on his face. It wasn't like he didn't like Ducky, he sure as hell preferred the older man before some unknown doctor at the emergency room, except maybe Dr.Pitt ...but there was just something _wrong_ about being examined on an autopsy table by a pathologist. Tony shivered.

"You plan on standing there all day, DiNozzo?" Gibbs growled and Tony quickly followed.

"Would it help if I say that I will take it easy today?" he asked, realising that he sounded probably like a whining kid, but the only answer he got was a slap on the head. True, it wasn't as hard as usual, but still stung. "Guess not, huh."

When they entered the autopsy room, Ducky and Palmer were working on a body laid out on the table before them.

"Ach, young Anthony and Jethro. You're just in time. I'm just finishing up with ensign Perett and I can only confirm my earlier diagnosis. This poor young boy died of blunt force trauma to the head. My bet is on the baseball bat you found under the bed of his roommate."

"Abby is already checking the DNA and the blood on the bat, Ducky. The ensign is waiting in the interrogation room. As soon as Abby confirms the findings, he's ours," Gibbs said with a grimace. The case was one of the easiest and maybe one of the stupidest too. It was one of the oldest stories, a love triangle. Too much alcohol on one side, a lot of testosterone running around and a moment of rage led to two ruined lives. One of the dead ensign, the other of the killer who quickly sobered, but it was too late.

"But we didn't come for the report, Duck. Maybe you could find some time and take a look at DiNozzo. He had a little run in with an explosion and a fire, and my guess is, he was stupid enough not to let himself be checked out by the EMT's."

"Boss-" Tony protested, but quickly shut up.

"Explosion? Fire? What happened to you now, dear boy?" Ducky asked with concern and not waiting for a reply, turned to his assistant.

"Mr.Palmer, I think you can finish with Ensign Perett. I'm sorry my boy, but the living take precedence over the dead, I'm afraid," the doctor said to the corpse, then turned to Tony.

"Well, why don't you make yourself comfortable at the table, Anthony, while I clean up a bit." Ducky nodded towards the empty autopsy table and Tony headed to it with a grimace, mumbling under his breath.

"Make yourself comfortable, Anthony," he parroted the doctor's voice. "Duh, as if that's even possible." Someone snickered behind him and he didn't even have to turn around to know that it was Palmer. Though if he _had've_ turned, he would've seen the grin on Gibbs face.

**To be continued**

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	2. Chapter 2

A/N: How to start? Sorry for the delay in getting the next chapter up and THANKS for all the great reviews you sent me. It really helped to start this story going and each and every one of them made my day ten times better. Big thanks goes also to Andrea and to my new beta _everybetty_ who worked on this chapter. Okay, here it goes. Hope you'll like it.

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**CHAPTER TWO**

OooOo

For a moment Tony thought that maybe luck was still on his side. When Ducky finished his exam, Tony quickly re-buttoned his shirt and slid off the table, rubbing at his arm where the needle had been inserted to draw a blood sample. He then turned his frown towards Gibbs, as if saying 'Now, are you satisfied? This is your fault.' And maybe Gibbs _was_ satisfied, because he grinned and turned to Ducky who was just putting away the blood pressure cuff.

"So, how is he doing, Duck?"

"I'm fine," Tony jumped in hastily, then rolled his eyes when he got a double look that clearly said 'shut up'.

"Well, I think he's fine," Ducky started and Tony raised his eyebrow, practically screaming 'See? I told you so!'

"But!" Ducky continued and Tony's satisfied smile vanished. "You have a slightly elevated temperature that might be a sign of infection. I would also recommend a check up with your physician tomorrow morning. There was some rasping in your lungs, Anthony, that I didn't like. God knows what you _did_ breathe in after the explosion. Someone should really keep an eye on your lungs. The last thing you need right now is a bout of pneumonia, dear boy."

Tony flushed, feeling uncomfortable under the scrutinizing look both men were throwing him.

"How about I come here for a check up if I feel worse?" he suggested, not at all liking the idea of killing half the day at doctor's appointments. Ducky let out a weary sigh, having known Tony long enough that he understood his dislike of doctors.

"No, dear boy. _If_ you feel worse, you'll go straight to the hospital. I'm really _not_ equipped to be treating living people. But if you prefer the autopsy table before a bed and a how you would say 'hot nurse', I'll take a look at you tomorrow morning. Till then, you should rest. If the circumstances were different, I would send you home, but knowing you, staying at the office would probably prove more restful."

Saying that, the coroner shot a meaningful glance towards Gibbs, as if appointing him with the task. To Tony's annoyance, his boss replied with a nod.

"Now if you would like to lie down somewhere, you can use the couch in-" Ducky started, but was cut off quickly.

"Nah, thanks, Ducky, but I think I'll just go back to my desk and do some 'restful' paperwork," Tony said and quickly left before either of the men could come up with something 'less stressful to do'. Even though he didn't feel up to par, he would still rather be _doing_ something than just sit around and let his mind wander. He didn't let it show, but the fire had cut a little too close to home, no pun intended. He'd had so many encounters with fire and exploding things in the last year that they would last him a lifetime. Trying to occupy himself was probably the best medicine he could hope for right now. That, or a rather strong sleeping pill that would put him out and stop the dreams that would no doubt come. With a sigh, Tony bumped the buttons and watched as the elevator door closed, only to be halted by a hand. Snorting, Tony tried not to grimace when the doors opened and Gibbs pushed in. For a moment they rode in silence, Gibbs looking straight ahead as always and Tony trying hard not to cough. He cleared his throat and earned a glance. Rolling his eyes, he let out a sigh.

"So, the Perett case is almost closed, huh?" he tried for a light conversation, but all he got was a glare and Tony had a feeling that Gibbs was for some reason pissed. He frowned, but didn't say anything else and was glad when the elevator finally stopped and let them out. Tony headed for his desk, shooting a reassuring smile towards Ziva, who was still struggling with her report on the Russell case, or rather with the computer.

"Need any help Zeevaah?" he asked with a grin and got a growl in reply. There was a resounding thump when she let her anger out, followed by a satisfied smile.

"See? Sometimes brute force works," she said and Tony rolled his eyes. He was about to retort when Ziva's phone started ringing. She picked it up and after few curt questions, she hung up, looking around for Gibbs.

"What's up?" Tony asked with a frown.

"Where's Gibbs?"

"I think he went for some coffee. Do we have a new case?"

Ziva only nodded and stood up when she saw him coming.

"Gibbs," she started and he raised a questioning eyebrow, while putting a mug of something hot on Tony's desk.

"I've just got a call from the PD. There was a big car wreck on Labor Road, six car pile-up this morning."

"Yeah, I heard about that," Tony jumped in and got a surprised look. "The EMT's were a little shorthanded because of it," he explained, blushing.

"What does it have to do with the NAVY?" Gibbs asked impatiently.

"There was a body found in the trunk of one of the cars wearing a Navy uniform."

"The driver?" Gibbs asked, already taking his car keys from the desk.

"Gone."

"Where's McGee?"

"Down in the lab with Abby," Ziva answered.

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs barked when he saw Tony getting up from his chair and reaching for his jacket. The agent looked at him, startled.

"With you, boss?"

Gibbs stopped and looked at him as if he was crazy.

"Did you hit your head too, DiNozzo or are you just plain deaf? You're on desk duty until Ducky clears you. Now get McGee on the phone and tell him to be in the garage ASAP because we're not waiting for him." With that, Gibbs headed for the elevators leaving a surprised Ziva behind.

"Who drank his coffee?" she managed to ask before she had to rush after him.

Tony only shook his head, now sure that he had somehow managed to piss Gibbs off. Now he only had to find out how. With a sigh, he put the jacket back on the hanger and picked up the phone to tell McGee he should probably learn to teleport if he wanted to catch up with Gibbs and Ziva. When it was done, Tony leaned back in his chair, taking the moment of respite. He tried to ignore the curious glances that the passers-by were throwing him, but he wasn't lucky. Frowning, he realised that it was probably his clothes that were drawing all the attention and gave himself an imaginary slap on the head. The thing he'd wanted to do the most from the moment he'd left behind the burning building, yet he managed to forget it once entering the bullpen. With a disgusted grimace, he stood up and made his way toward the locker room where he kept his spare clothing, ignoring the glances and concentrating only on the promise of a hot shower. Maybe the water could wash away some of the images that refused to leave.

oOoOo

Truth was, the day wasn't only long and boring, but also equally unnerving. Tony never liked to be left behind when the team was out in the action, but after the time Gibbs had gone to Mexico and he'd been left in charge, he really hated it. It didn't matter that the 'Boss' was back; his team was his responsibility and that included Gibbs. At least today they weren't chasing a suspect, if only because they didn't have any yet.

The body that was found in the car was the true owner of said car. It was also a naval officer working in the recruitment department. Martin Clayton was twenty six years old, almost six foot tall and well built, a fact the agents didn't miss when they thought about the near impossibility of getting that much mass into the trunk of his own car.

"Well, at least we know that the killer was either well built himself or had an accomplice," McGee commented once they were back in the bullpen and talking over the case.

"No, McGee, in reality, it could've been anyone," Ziva protested and with a smug smile added, "I wouldn't need more than a few minutes to do it. If he was knocked out, or already dead and not putting up any resistance, a slightly better built woman or an angry one could've put him in the trunk, too."

"You mean a woman who was trained for Mossad," McGee mumbled, but cringed when he saw the look Ziva shot him, and not for the first time he wondered just what they taught them in the Israeli intelligence agency. Lip reading 101 started to look more and more probable.

"She's right," Gibbs jumped into the discussion. "If a women is pissed off, she's capable of almost anything."

Hearing that, Tony grinned and mouthed to the other two agents: _"__He should know, he was married three times.__"_ This earned him a double smirk and a second later a flying empty coffee cup that hit him in the shoulder then bounced off and fell straight into the waste basket.

"I saw that, DiNozzo." Gibbs warned him, though if the glint in his eyes spoke of amusement, it meant that he agreed with Tony.

"Good throw, Boss," Tony replied with a slightly crooked grin.

"I don't get one thing, though. Where is the driver? By the state of the car, he – or she," McGee quickly added after a pointed look from Ziva, "shouldn't have been able to leave the scene. After all, there was blood on the air bag."

"Which is only good for us, Probie," Tony jumped in, cringing at his raw throat. "But you know that blood on the air bag is most probably from a broken nose. Doesn't mean the driver was hurt badly. And if there was a pile-up, there was also chaos. Don't forget it was early in the morning, still half dark." Tony pointed out and nodded toward the LCD with the news station tuned in and muffled down, which was just showing the accident from the helicopter. They all looked up and watched the silent broadcast. It wasn't the first time they'd seen it, it was the top topic of the local news, but they all perked up when they saw some amateur video showing the place of accident just minutes after it happened. True, it wasn't the best quality, probably caught on a cell phone camera.

"McGee, get me a copy of that video!"

"I'm on it, Boss," McGee replied and he was already picking up his phone.

"Why the hell weren't we the first to see it?!" Gibbs growled and shook his head.

"Well, the TV stations are paying better," Tony mumbled and instantly knew that this time it wasn't the coffee cup that hit him.

"Gibbs?" Ziva spoke and they all looked at the TV when she grabbed for the remote and turned up the sound.

"_-the cause of the explosion is still unknown, though we have information that there were several buckets filled with __a __highly flammable substance found in the apartment. There __is__ speculation that the fire started with a cigarette, as it is known Mr. Casper was a heavy smoker. The inhabitants of the apartment building were all evacuated and there were several cases of slight smoke inhalation reported, mostly from the inhabitants of the floor where the fire started. Several apartments are momentarily uninhabitable. The inspectors will have to check if the explosion and subsequent fire disturb__ed__ the stability of the apartments. Until then, the occupants of the aff__e__cted apartments __will be__ provided with alternate accommodations.__"_

When the reporter finished, Ziva turned down the sound and looked at Tony somehow pityingly, to which he reacted with a somehow self-conscious shrug.

"Hey, it's not like I was planning to go home tonight-" he started but had to stop and cough, earning more of the concerned looks from the other agents. He frowned at them, but it didn't help. "There's a frigging hole in my wall, Ziva," he added.

"Where are you sleeping tonight?" McGee asked concerned, then wanted to slap himself. The last thing he wanted was Tony thinking he was inviting him to his apartment.

"Aw, I knew you cared, Probie," Tony said with a smirk, knowing well enough what the man was thinking.

Ziva was snickering and McGee just opened his mouth, face all red, when Gibbs interrupted him.

"Enough fun. I thought you were paid for work," Gibbs barked and looked pointedly at McGee's computer.

"Uh, right, Boss. I'll get the copy of that video, then I'm going to check Clayton's phone call records and other stuff," McGee hastily added and sat behind his desk, happy that he didn't have to react to Tony's accusation that 'he cared'. Not that it was false, but the last thing McGee needed was giving Tony more ammunition.

"While you're at it, why don't you also check Casper's phone records? And I still didn't get the report from the fire."

"Uh, working on it, Boss."

"Good. DiNozzo, get on the phone and find out when the hell are they planning to bring Clayton's car to our garage. I need Abby to have a look at it as soon as possible. Then go down to Ducky. He should have at least a preliminary report." Not giving Tony a chance to reply or protest, Gibbs turned to Ziva.

"David, you're with me. It's time we pay a little visit to Lieutenant Clayton's supervisor."

oOoOo

Tony quickly made his way from Autopsy and the concern of Ducky. Although the medical examiner had a fresh body laying on the table waiting for him, he paid more attention to the young agent or so it seemed to Tony, when he listened to one of Ducky's stories, this time about a case of a family that was burnt in their house because of faulty wiring. Tony didn't really understood why Ducky was so apt to tell him _this_ story, until his ear caught a comment of how lucky he was and that he really should pay more attention to his health and get some rest. Of course Ducky didn't say that out loud, but the message was quite clear and Tony left Autopsy as soon as he had the preliminary report, mumbling something about how he was going to Abby's lab and taking a break. Ducky give him a satisfied smile and turned back to the body laying on the table, happy to have a willing listener.

True to his words, Tony ended up on the floor of Abby's lab, Bert the farting hippo under his head, playing with an empty coffee cup by trying to catch it each time he threw it into the air, and thinking. Gibbs and Ziva were still with Clayton's family and he had already notified them of the results, but now he needed to talk it over with someone and Abby looked like a pretty good choice.

"Ducky said that Clayton was probably still alive when the accident occurred. He died of massive internal bleeding, and by the photos from the crash, it's clear that the trunk was pretty demolished," Tony said a little louder, trying to be heard over the music. At least Abby turned it down a notch when he came and it was one of the more likeable songs.

"Yep, the photos are really cool, but I can't wait to take a look at the car myself. They were supposed to be there ten minutes ago," she pouted, her fingers running over the keyboard with speed that Tony couldn't help but envy. The computer beeped and she nodded, satisfied, then took a big gulp of the CaffPow Tony had brought her. Turning around, she quickly flopped down next to Tony who looked at her questioningly.

"So, where are you sleeping tonight? I can lend you my coffin if you'd like." She smiled at him, even though Tony knew she was serious. He quickly shook his head and gave her a smile.

"Thanks, Abs, but I'll find something. If I play it right, I still have a hope that Ziva will invite me," he said with a grin, then grunted when Abby's elbow found its way to his ribcage. "Ouch." Tony's laugh turned into a cough and when he finally stopped, Abby was pushing the CaffPow into his hands. He took a sip, grateful for the liquid but instantly grimacing at the taste. He wanted to ask how she could drink the stuff in such quantity, but thought better of it and instead dramatically rubbed the ribs were she'd hit him.

"You're right, Abs," he spluttered, "With Ziva's snoring, I wouldn't get any sleep. Hey, I can always bunk with McGee!"

Abby smiled and gave him a wink, as if knowing something he didn't. Tony frowned and wanted to ask what that wink meant, but Abby's phone rang and she jumped up. After a short exchange, she jumped around, only to stoop over Tony and lend him a hand.

"Come on, the car's here!"

With a grunt and a sigh, Tony accepted the hand and got up, grabbing the half empty cup of CaffPow and drinking some of the stuff. If it kept Abby so tuned up, maybe it could help him dig into his energy reserves and pretend that everything was fine just a little longer.

TBC

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	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** _Thanks to all who reviewed and also thanks to my wonderful beta everybetty. Here goes chapter three, hope you'll like it._

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**Smoke-screens**

**part 03**

Tony let out a tired sigh and closed the folder that was laying in front of him with much more force than he wanted to, wincing at the resounding clap. The headache that had started a few hours before as justa small twinge in the back of his head in the meantime had grown to a roaring monster. Even after two Tylenol it wasn't getting better; if anything, the small letters in the file and the concentration he needed to read them only worsened it. Rubbing at his eyes, he could practically feel the eyes watching him from all around the office. Blinking, he looked up into a pair of clear blue ones gazing down at him with something close to concern. A little touched, Tony smiled and sat up straighter.

"Are you done, DiNozzo?"

He wasn't, but by the way his head felt right now Tony knew he wouldn't be able to finish reading through the report until he got some sleep. Which might've been a problem, because he really didn't think that bunking with McGee would be such a great idea, even if the probie had been the only one who'd 'offered' so far. Maybe getting a room at the hotel wouldn't be bad, Tony mused, but jerked as a hand landed on top of the folder, effectively closing it shut.

"You're done, DiNozzo." This time it wasn't a question and Tony only nodded. "Good. Then say bye bye to agents McGee and David and grab your coat. We're leaving."

"Uh, boss?" Tony frowned, looked first at Gibbs then at the other two agents. McGee was looking somewhat relieved and Ziva smirked, giving him a small wave.

"Working hours are over. I've my orders from Ducky and a perfectly good spare room. Or would you rather I told Abby that you'll take up her offer for a free coffin?"

Tony swallowed and quickly shook his head, when he realised what Gibbs said and frowned.

"Since when are you taking orders from anyone?" he mumbled and was surprised when Gibbs turned to him with a grin.

"Only when I like them, DiNozzo. Now get moving before I grow old."

Tony stepped up to catch up with Gibbs, his mouth already opening for a reply, when he saw the hand aiming for his head. He winced, anticipating the slap and the pain it would cause with the headache he already had, but the hand stopped inches before his face and changed into a warning finger.

"Don't even think about saying that," Gibbs warned with a glint in his eyes. Too surprised that he didn't get a slap, Tony closed his mouth shut and blinked, looking like a fish caught on dry dock.

"I would never imply that you're old, Boss," he stuttered and Gibbs glared at him, then, with a shake of his head, turned towards the elevator. Tony heard a double chuckle from behind and rolled his eyes, before hurrying to catch up with Gibbs.

oOoOo

Gibbs was watching him. The pizza on his plate was already cold and the cheese had a gummy consistency that did nothing to help his appetite. Tony didn't remember eating much through the day; maybe a power bar that Abby pushed into his hand, or an apple that appeared out of nowhere on his desk, which he suspected came from Ziva. Yet he wasn't hungry. But Gibbs was already glaring at him, sending out silent threats of informing Ducky about his lack of appetite, and the last thing Tony wanted was to deal with the physician. So he took another bite and quickly downed it with a sip of beer. Maybe the combination of a little alcohol and the two Tylenol he'd taken earlier would finally stop the headache and let him rest.

"You know, Gibbs, some people think it's rude to stare when they're eating," Tony spoke, a little irritated by the fact he was being watched like a two year old.

"Well, some people would think it's rude to play with your food, too," retorted Gibbs with a smirk.

Tony gruffed and pushed the plate with the uneaten slice away. He stood up, suddenly feeling like everything was closing in on him.

"Sorry, I'm not hungry. Feel kinda tired though. Maybe I should hit the sack." He needed breathing room, and if pretending sleepiness would get him some privacy, he'd go for it. After all, Gibbs had his orders from Ducky, Tony thought with an imaginary snort. He didn't wait for reply and had already made it to the stairs when Gibbs grabbed his arm and stopped him. Tony jerked, startled.

"Basement, DiNozzo. Now."

"What the hell-" Tony started angrily, for a second forgetting that Gibbs was his boss. This time the head slap wasn't gentle and Tony let out a yelp when his headache flared, but it served the purpose.

"Now, are you coming?" Gibbs' eyes penetrated him and Tony blinked, as if woken up from some dream.

"Yeah," he managed and followed the older man down the stairs into the basement.

"Turn on the radio," Gibbs said and while Tony fumbled with the tuning, trying to find something he could listen to without his brain deciding to commit suicide inside his skull, Gibbs pulled out a bottle of scotch and two cups. He blew away the slight layer of sawdust that covered them and poured the cups half full, then capped the bottle and put it back in its hiding place behind the tool cabinet.

He pushed one cup into Tony's hand, then pulled a stool over and sat down, leaving Tony to find his own place on the stairs.

"Drink," Gibbs ordered and Tony shot him a defiant look. He didn't even know what made him angry. The fact that Gibbs hadn't let him escape to the solitude of the spare room was surely one of the factors, but there was something else too, something that had been eating him up for a much longer time. In any case, telling him what to do only made him more irritated..

"You know, I'm not a damn dog. And I'm not even at work, so you can't order me around," Tony said, his voice low and without the usual humor in it. Gibbs gave him a studious look, then shook his head, eyes darkening.

"Why don't you drink that scotch and then we'll talk," Gibbs softly suggested, taking some of the steam away. Tony grit his teeth then let out a resigned sigh. Being angry at Gibbs never solved anything.

"Mixing alcohol with meds isn't the best idea, boss," Tony objected, but when Gibbs just shrugged and downed the scotch in one gulp, he followed suit. The drink slid down his raw throat, burning all the way to his stomach, but once there the burning changed into a welcome warmth that quickly expanded into his extremities and then to his head.

"Wow, that's some good stuff," Tony breathed out, eyes wide.

"It was a gift from Ducky. He had enough brains not to send it through the post office," Gibbs said with a smirk, and Tony grimaced, remembering the Honey Dust incident. Which made him think of Kate and all the stuff that happened after. His stomach churned and he was thankful for that scotch, for keeping his dinner where it was supposed to be.

Tony had a sudden urge to move, to do something, anything, just to occupy his mind. He stood up and started pacing the basement, unsure. He felt Gibbs' eyes following his movements, but the older man didn't react to it; he let Tony touch the wooden frame of the boat, silently counting the ribs, then turning towards the tools. Looking everywhere but at Gibbs.

The radio was playing in the background but that was the only sound in the basement. They were both waiting. Gibbs was waiting for Tony to start speaking, and Tony was waiting... hell, he didn't know what he was waiting for, maybe just to see how much patience Gibbs had.

"What do you want from me?" Tony suddenly asked, turning to look straight at Gibbs.

"I want to know what's eating you, Tony," Gibbs said after a moment of silence and Tony let out a surprised laugh.

"Nothing-" Tony started, but then stopped himself. His first instinct was to lie, but he realised he didn't want to, not anymore. He was tired of keeping silent, of pretending that everything was okay when it clearly wasn't. Tired of lying to people he was supposed to trust with his life and most of all tired of all the death.

He needed to talk, needed to hear that what he was feeling was normal and that it would get better. He needed to know that after everything that had happened, he hadn't lost the trust of his friends, like he'd lost Jeanne.

He heard a sigh and knew that Gibbs' patience was running short. For a second he considered just ignoring the man, but then he decided against it. If he didn't talk now, everything would stay inside and he wasn't sure he could deal with it much longer.

"There's... too much of it, Gibbs," he spoke, his voice breaking and he wasn't sure if it was the fault of the smoke inhalation or his emotions.

"You have to start somewhere," Gibbs said easily, looking at Tony with such understanding that Tony's throat tightened. Gibbs knew how it felt to lose someone, to be kicked down again and again. He went through it all and more and it almost ruined him, sent him running away to Mexico until someone showed him he was still needed, still wanted.

Tony opened his mouth, then closed it. Could he allow himself to show weakness or did he still have to prove himself to Gibbs? As if reading his thoughts, Gibbs shook his head.

"You don't have to prove anything, Tony. Just let it out. I'll listen."

And Tony knew he would. He took a deep breath and slowly, started speaking.

"I messed up. The whole undercover thing... I should've never let myself get so deep, to love Jeanne. I lied to her about everything, about my family, friends. My work," he added and Gibbs knew that was the worst of all the lies, because to Tony, his family and friends were all part of his work and Tony's next words just confirmed that.

"She didn't know who I was, what this job meant to me. What the people meant. But she wanted me to choose, to leave it all behind and be with her. I couldn't lose her... but even harder would be to lose this. So I stayed. At the time I thought, I'm choosing the right thing, but even from then I'm having doubts. And I can't doubt my job, Gibbs. Not when peoples' lives are at stake." He looked at Gibbs and the blue eyes were watching him intensely, but he didn't speak, didn't interrupt. Tony grit his teeth, yearning for another gulp of the scotch, for the oblivion it would put him in.

"Too many people died, Gibbs. Too many good people went away." He shook his head with a tired sigh and closed his eyes, the image of Kate with the hole in her head flashing with the images of Paula, broken over the deaths of her team, the look in her eyes when she went through that wall for her death. The detonation of the bomb, the explosion of his car and the look Jeanne gave him when he told her the truth, it all mixed into a slideshow of nightmarish images that weren't just bad dreams, no dreams at all. And into all that an image of a burning man, the smell of smoke mixed with burning flesh. Tony's eyes shot open and he grit his teeth, this time against the wave of nausea that threatened to bring back the pizza and scotch. While he thought losing the pizza wouldn't be for worse, he didn't want to see a comeback.

"Deep breaths, Tony, deep breaths," he heard Gibbs' voice, momentarily surprised at how the older man managed to get so close without him noticing. Felt himself sliding down the wall and a hand on his neck, pushing his head to his knees. He did as he was told, took in deep breaths and hoped that his lungs wouldn't take that moment to act up because coughing was the last thing he needed right now. After a minute or two, he let out a relieved sigh when the nausea passed and he was sure his dinner would stay were it was.

"Better?" Gibbs asked and Tony straightened up, suddenly self-conscious.

"Uh yeah, sorry for that," he stuttered and flushed, eyes looking down like a beaten dog. A hand cupped his face and Tony was forced to look up.

"Stop beating yourself up for stuff you can't control," Gibbs said and when he was sure he had Tony's full attention, he nodded and let his head go.

"We can't save everyone. Sometimes we win, sometimes we lose. That's life. What happened with Jeanne was one of those things. You should've never been put in that position." There was a touch of anger in Gibbs voice, though Tony wasn't sure who it was aimed at. Gibbs shook his head, not sure what he should say but not wanting to leave the problem unaddressed.

"Tell me what happened today, Tony. Because I know there was more than you told us."

Tony took that as a chance at reprieve, a short moment when he didn't have to face that true fear that nestled itself inside his chest.

"I just didn't... think it was important." Tony tried to smile, but it came out as a crooked grin.

"Well, looks like it was," Gibbs commented dryly. "I read the reports, Tony. When the firefighters arrived, the door was broken down."

"Seems like you know most of it, then," Tony quipped and winced at the rewarding head slap. He growled and shot Gibbs an irritated look. He didn't seem to mind.

"You know, sometimes I _really_ hate when you do this."

"Then stop giving me reasons," Gibbs replied with a smile that made Tony snort.

"Right," he muttered while he rubbed at the tender flesh. Tony accepted the proffered hand and stood up, then made his way toward the stairs. By the way his stomach felt, he would do better to sit down.

"If you want hugs, go to Abby." Gibbs advised, and Tony rolled his eyes, but there was the smirk that made Gibbs feel better. If Tony could still find humor in something, nothing was lost.

"You're all heart, boss," Tony mumbled, then sobered. He knew Gibbs was still waiting for an explanation.

"What I told you at the bullpen was mostly right," he started, eyes once again looking down, this time watching his fingers playing with the empty cup, but seeing something else.

"When I woke up and realised what was going on, I grabbed my gun and clothes and ran out of the bedroom... only to see the mess that was left of my living room. Most of the wall was still in place, but there was a big 'chunk' of it missing. As I noticed later, it was in pieces all over my couch and the floor, some of it decorating my plasma TV," he added with regret.

"The living room was already filling with smoke and through the hole in the wall I saw flames, but no movement. I thought that there would be screaming or something, but it was dead silent. Then the smoke detectors started wailing and the whole building woke up. I rushed out and went for the fire extinguisher at the end of the hall. When I got it back to Casper's door, there were already people coming out of their apartments. Nobody knew what was going on, so I shouted at Mrs. Younger to pull the fire alarm and to get out of the building."

Tony still saw that surprised look on her face, and almost laughed when he remembered the even more startled look on the face of the man that came out of her apartment, half naked and sure as hell not Mr. Younger. But the humor of the situation didn't last and Tony's thoughts returned to the door. The fire extinguisher was heavy and he brought it down on the lock, then simply kicked the door in. Under different circumstances he would've first tried the door with the back of his hand and would've watched for a backdraft, but he knew that was useless. The fire didn't have enough time to draw out all the oxygen from the room, simply because the hole in the wall provided it with an additional source from Tony's apartment.

"At first I didn't see him. It was dark, the only light was coming from the hall and from the flames, but there was too much smoke. I used the extinguisher and I went in, but couldn't make it far enough and the damn thing wasn't working anymore. I saw some closed buckets right ahead of me. The flames hadn't reached them yet, but they were close, too close. And the guy was too far from me. Even from that distance though, I could see the flames licking at his flesh. God, Gibbs, he was just laying there, probably knocked unconscious or already dead, I don't know, but he was fucking _burning_ and I couldn't do a damn thing to stop it. I just stood there and couldn't move-" Tony's voice broke and the cup fell from his fingers, hitting the stairs with a loud thunk, then rolling on the floor until it ended up under the boat. Tony let out a jagged breath then rubbed his eyes with his fisted knuckles, as if trying to rub away the gruesome images.

Gibbs laid a hand on Tony's shoulder and gently squeezed, letting him know that he wasn't alone.

"It's okay," he muttered in a tone that Tony had heard only once, when he'd thought he was dying in that damn bed, under the blue lights, hacking up his lungs. _'You won't die, do you hear me, Tony? You won't die.' _And he didn't. Now Gibbs said that it was okay, and Tony wanted to believe him _so much_.

"I froze up, Gibbs. I couldn't move..." he said, voice trembling. "The damn fire was closing in, I saw the flames reaching those buckets, coming closer to me, but I couldn't move, couldn't run. All I saw was Paula, my car, and the damn ship blowing up- "He was shaking his head and stopped only when the hand on his shoulder gave him another squeeze

"But you got out. You're alive." Gibbs voice spoke into his ear and Tony nodded, feeling much less happier about it than he should.

"Yeah, but no thanks to me. Someone pulled me out. I froze, Gibbs. I just stood there like a complete idiot." Tony snorted and let out a hysterical laugh. He let his hands fall from his face and looked at Gibbs with a stupid grin on his face.

"I'm really starting to hate fire and anything exploding, Boss," he said and with that the tension broke and they both laughed until Tony's laugh turned into coughing.

"Damn, I hate this too," he muttered once the coughing fit was over and blinked when the basement blurred. "Uh, guess that scotch and Tylenol is starting to work, boss."

Gibbs nodded and helped Tony to get up, steadying him when he wobbled.

"We will have a talk later," he promised and Tony froze, unsure what that meant, but too tired to think it over. "Get some sleep. We have work tomorrow."

Tony nodded and started his slow trek up the stairs, all the while aware of the watchful eyes following his steps, until he hit the last stair.

"And DiNozzo?"

Tony turned and blinked down at the double image of his boss.

"I'm glad you chose us," Gibbs said and Tony blinked again, surprised and a little unsure if he'd heard right, because Gibbs had already turned to his boat, fingers tracing the wood.

"I'm glad, too," Tony mumbled, his tone doubting yet strangely calm, then he turned and left the Marine alone, to get some much needed sleep.

To be continued


	4. Chapter 4

**_A/N:_ **_Here goes chapter four. Thanks for all the great reviews and also big thanks to my beta everybetty._

* * *

**Chapter Four**

Despite the previous day's events, the night went on without any nightmares for Tony. Maybe it was thanks to the scotch or just because he was too tired to think, but he almost slept through his alarm. Blinking in the semi darkness of the room, it took him a moment to realize where he was and why. He sighed and slowly rolled out of bed, his muscles all achy and stiff. The tickle in his throat hadn't miraculously vanished through the night like he'd hoped either and with a frustrated grimace, Tony shuffled into the shower.

Fifteen minutes later, he was walking into the kitchen, not at all surprised that the first thing he smelled was coffee.

"Morning," Tony mumbled and internally winced at the raspy voice. At least the steam in the shower had helped to ease his breathing some, but he knew that he would have to put on his best poker face to make it through the day without letting on how shitty he felt.

Gibbs looked up from his cup, giving Tony a quick once over. At least partially satisfied with what he saw, he pointed to the half empty pot of fresh coffee.

"We'll grab some breakfast on our way in. Coffee's there."

Tony threw one look at the dark liquid and shook his head.

"Nah, thanks. I like my stomach lining intact." It wasn't the first time he'd stayed with Gibbs and already learnt his lesson. Gibbs liked his coffee strong, and the stuff he had here was strong enough to take a walk on its own. So Tony suffered the glare and quickly made his way out of Gibbs' reach, just in case.

"Okay then, let's go," Gibbs said and Tony felt relief wash over him. He remembered their last conversation the night before and was afraid that Gibbs would want to continue where they'd left off. Tony had already berated himself for telling the other agent about his own insecurities. He faulted the scotch and beer for that little emotional outpour. He was hoping Gibbs had already forgotten it or at least had decided to leave it be for the moment. As if reading his thoughts, Gibbs finished his coffee and, passing Tony, gave him a light head slap.

"We still have to talk, DiNozzo. Don't think you'll get away that easily. Now move, we have some bad guys to catch."

Tony gaped, then quickly shut his mouth and shook his head, dismissing the whole thing. Rubbing the back of his head, he followed Gibbs, silently mumbling, "I really need some coffee."

oOoOo

At least today he managed to get into work on time, thanks to Gibbs' crazy driving style. Sometimes Tony really wondered how the man managed to keep his drivers license; on second thought, it wasn't hard to imagine a young patrolman giving up under that gaze and the badge. On the plus side, by the time McGee and Ziva arrived, Tony was already sitting behind his desk, pretending to be hard at work. McGee threw a distrusting look at his keyboard and checked his chair for tampering or chewing gum, then, finally satisfied that Tony hadn't pulled any practical joke, sat down. Ziva snickered at his acts, but she also did a quick check of her desk, though more subtly. Tony only grinned behind the monitor.

"Paranoid much?" he asked with a smirk, once everyone was sitting.

"With you around Tony? That's not paranoia, that's common sense," Ziva snorted and McGee grinned.

Tony gave a shrug and continued dabbling at his keyboard. Sure he could work faster, but it was less fun and he always enjoyed making his co-workers cringe at the pace of the tapping.

"So, how was your nightover at Gibbs'?" Ziva asked with her typical smile.

"Uhm, that's called a sleepover, Zeevaah," Tony corrected her, then stopped writing and leaned back in his chair. "You know, it was fun. Pity you weren't there. We called over some girls, had a camp fire in the backyard, some pizza and beers and then traded ghost stories..."

"Right. You know DiNozzo, the beer, pizza and the 'ghost stories' I would buy. But the girls? And the camp fire?" Ziva shook her head. "Not in your wildest dreams."

"Uh, Ziva, how do you think he came up with that idea in the first place?" McGee jumped in and grimaced when a flying paper ball him in the head.

"Spoil fun," Tony said with a grin that quickly vanished when he heard Gibbs voice coming from behind.

"I didn't know I had a backyard, DiNozzo."

"Uhm, it was just..."

Gibbs gave him a look that expressed just how little he cared about the explanation and Tony shut up.

"Anything new on the Clayton case? McGee?"

"Yeah, boss. The tape from the news station arrived after you left. Abby is still working on it. And I think we might've found a motive for the kidnapping."

"If it was a kidnapping," Ziva jumped in and McGee threw her an irritated look. Obviously, they'd had this discussion before.

"What else it would be, Ziva? The guy was bound, drugged to the gills, but still _alive_ before the accident. You saw that trunk, read Ducky's report. He died of massive internal bleeding, caused when the other car crushed the trunk."

"Yes, I _read_ that report, McGee," Ziva hissed, and Tony couldn't help but join the conversation.

"Ziva's right, probie. The fact that Clayton was killed in the accident doesn't mean that whoever took him wasn't planning on throwing him into the ocean, or just driving his car off the cliff."

"Yeah well, that's why I was talking about the _motive_, Tony," McGee said with a satisfied smile and both Tony and Ziva exchanged a nervous look. McGee looking like he ate the canary was never a good sign.

They heard an impatient growl from Gibbs' desk.

"Do you mind telling us what you found, McGee, or do I need to grab myself another coffee so I won't fall asleep waiting?"

McGee flushed and Tony stifled a cough.

"Uhm, no," McGee cleared his throat and glared at Tony, as if he was the one responsible. Tony just shrugged.

"When you talked to Clayton's wife yesterday, she wasn't telling the whole truth."

"What do you mean?" Gibbs scowled.

"She told you that Clayton's only living family members are his mother and uncle. But when I looked into his phone records, I found a name that I've seen before. Maggie Brighton."

"Wait, Brighton?" Tony perked up. "As in Mag Brighton, one of the best selling authors of uhm," Tony paused, suddenly not sure what to call the genre she was writing for, " 'adult literature'?" he added a little sheepishly. Ziva blinked and McGee stared at him with a half open mouth, probably surprised that he was even reading. By the frown on Gibbs' face he obviously didn't know the name.

"Well, if you call porn adult literature, then why not," McGee was the first to reply and this time it was Tony who flushed.

"I just saw an article about the best selling authors," he mumbled, trying hard to ignore the look Ziva was throwing him.

"Get to the point, McGee. What does this woman has to do with Lieutenant Clayton?"

"It's his sister."

"His wife told us Clayton didn't have any siblings," Ziva frowned. "Even his commanding officer told us that Clayton had no siblings."

"Maybe they didn't know," McGee said. "Clayton sure didn't make it public, but they kept in close touch. They were exchanging phone calls at least twice a week and each one lasted ten or more minutes."

"And yet you think his wife didn't have a clue about it?"

McGee only shrugged.

"How did you figure out they were related?"

"Brighton was the first name of Clayton's mother. When I saw the name, I pulled out Maggie's birth certificate, and sure enough, she was born in Washington, D.C., three years before Lieutenant Clayton. She moved out to Dallas, Texas when she turned eighteen."

"That still doesn't give us a motive for kidnapping," Ziva started, but Tony cut her off.

"If they were close it does. Think about it, Ziva, best selling author? She's got to be _loaded_."

"She is pretty wealthy," McGee said with a nod. "She's already published over twenty books and like Tony said, they're best-sellers."

"I want to talk to her," Gibbs issued, looking at McGee. "Call her and try to get her on the next flight here. Also check out her phone records; I want to know if she had any call from this area. Ziva, bring in Clayton's wife. I want to know why she lied to us." With a quick nod both Ziva and McGee got to work.

"DiNozzo, go and help Abby with that tape. Tell her to try and run the photos from the tape through the database. And check for any connection with Texas."

Tony stood up and Gibbs grabbed his coat. They made it into the elevator and when the door closed, Tony cast a curious glance at Gibbs.

"Where are you going, boss?"

Returning Tony's questioning look, Gibbs gave him a slight nod.

"City morgue."

"Why?" Tony asked, but he already knew the answer. "Casper?"

"You know it's not in our jurisdiction," Tony spoke quietly and Gibbs smiled.

"Since when do I need jurisdiction to drop off a file to Ducky's old friend working in the city morgue?"

"Right," Tony laughed. "and if that friend is currently working on a case you have some interest in, it's all purely coincidental."

"Glad that you understand, DiNozzo." Gibbs said when the elevator came to his floor. Tony was still smiling when he walked into Abby's lab.

oOoOo

When Gibbs finally returned, it was almost two hours later and he definitely didn't look happy. Tony glanced up from the computer monitor and reached for the cup of tea that had Abby pushed into his hands when he was leaving her lab. He wasn't a big fan of tea, but right now it was blissfully hot and full of sugar. It also helped when he felt an urge to cough. Which he had started to feel more and more in the last hour.

Gibbs glanced at the cup, wrinkled his nose and gave DiNozzo a scrutinizing look before sitting down behind his own desk.

"How did it go, boss?" Tony asked and stopped pretending that there was something interesting on his monitor.

"Where is McGee?"

"Down with Abby. We managed to identify the guy that kidnapped Clayton. Well, not identify, because the image is pretty bad, but that's what they're working on. To clear it up a bit, then they can check for a match in those databases that McGee so loves to hack into." Tony said it all in one rush so when he finished his breathing was much louder than he would've liked. Gibbs didn't miss it, but for the moment let it slip.

"How well did you know Nate Casper?" Gibbs asked suddenly and Tony blinked.

"Uh, I didn't even know his first name was Nate. What's going on, boss?"

Gibbs seemed to think about what he should say, but in the end he settled for the truth.

"The fire wasn't the cause of his death, Tony. There was no trace of smoke in his lungs, which means he wasn't breathing by the time the fire started."

"Oh," was all Tony could say. He wasn't even hoping to hear the words absolving him of any guilt, but now that Gibbs told him he wasn't responsible, even partially for the man's death, he felt relief. Not that mind boggling relief as if someone had just shoved the weight of the world off his shoulders, but he felt lighter. 'That's good then,' he wanted to say, but didn't. Because it meant that there was still something wrong.

"So, if not the fire or smoke, what was the cause of his death?" Tony finally asked and Gibbs wordlessly handed him a copy of the autopsy report. Tony opened it and instantly grimaced at the pictures of the burned body. Turning the pages, he read the report, then looked up at Gibbs.

"He was smothered? With what, the plastic that covered the furniture?"

"Most probably. The fire took care of most of the evidence, but it didn't hide the broken wrist and other self-defense wounds."

"I take it they're no longer investigating this like arson," Tony commented.

"Homicide took over."

"Who?"

"Detective Richards."

The name didn't ring any bells.

"Did you talk to him?" Tony asked even though the question was pointless. Gibbs was gone almost two hours, and he sure as hell hadn't spent all that time in the morgue.

"Yeah. We came to an understanding," Gibbs said with a light grin and Tony's eyes widened. He could only imagine how that understanding went, but he didn't dare to ask.

"So, are we in on the case or not?"

"Do you see any involvement with the Navy, DiNozzo?"

"No," Tony replied with a sigh.

"Detective Richards didn't either. But we made a deal. As long as we don't go behind his back, he'll update us about any development."

Tony snorted. That meant that they'd get a short report once a day that wouldn't tell them anything useful. He shut the folder and rubbed his temples, willing away the resurfacing headache, unaware of Gibbs concerned looks.

"Did you see Ducky?"

Tony looked up, startled by the sudden change of topic and cursing himself for letting his mask slip and showing any sign of weakness.

"Uh, no boss, but I am fine," Tony said and put on the most assuring smile he was capable of. Most people would've bought it, but Gibbs saw right through it. Gibbs only rolled his eyes and stood up.

"You look like crap, DiNozzo. But suit yourself. I think Ziva had enough time to prepare Clayton's wife for the questioning." At that the two man exchanged a look and headed for the interrogation room.

oOoOo

The woman sitting behind the one way mirror looked young, much younger than Tony thought. She looked barely old enough to vote, but he'd seen her driver's license in the computer and she was turning twenty seven in two months. Still when he saw her, Tony had a bad feeling. She was innocent looking enough, but there was something in her eyes. Something that definitely shouldn't be there after almost two hours spent in Ziva's company.

"Did she say anything to you?" he asked Ziva. They were standing behind the glass, watching as Gibbs entered the interrogation room and how the woman looked up at him as if he was her savior, while there was still that strange glint in her eyes.

"No. Just that she wants a lawyer if she's arrested. I told her she's not, and she didn't ask any more. Didn't even speak." Ziva frowned. Obviously the woman didn't act at all like Ziva had anticipated and that was throwing her off. Tony would've ribbed her for it, but right now he had enough trouble staying in the room. It was hot in there and he was sweating through his shirt as if he'd just run a marathon. His breathing wasn't any better, and he had to clear his throat every other minute to keep from coughing. Leaning against the cold glass would be a blessing, but he knew that Ziva would notice.

"She's... hiding something," Ziva spoke and Tony couldn't but agree with her.

"Was she the same when you saw her the first time? How did she react to her husband's death?"

"She looked stricken enough. Barely talking. I think that at the time she really didn't know her husband was dead. If she had a hand in his kidnapping, she wasn't planning to kill him. Not right away at least," Ziva mused, then frowned as she listened to the interrogation. Gibbs was going for the angry approach, letting Elyse Clayton know that he didn't believe her any more and Ziva could see that she was starting to crack.

Tony wanted to pay more attention to the interrogation, but he just couldn't concentrate. The room was simply too hot. He finally relented, seeing as Ziva was concentrating more on what was going in the next room than on him, and rested his forehead against the glass, letting out a relieved sigh. Which turned into a cough and soon he was doubled over, with Ziva's hand against the back of his neck.

"I really don't get it, Tony. Why the hell aren't you going home?" she muttered and he cast her a somehow accusing glare.

"My home burned down, remember?" he managed to say after the coughing fit stopped, leaving him breathless. Ziva let go of him and poured him a cup of water from the water cooler. He took it without protest.

"Yeah, and you're burning up so quit the macho act, go see Ducky and get yourself into bed."

Tony, who was in the process of drinking, snorted, swallowing wrong which ended in another round of coughing.

"You... offering... to come with me?" he gasped, the grin on his face speaking for all.

Ziva rolled her eyes, then gave him a head slap that would've made Gibbs proud.

"Get your head out of the gutter!" she snorted. "I said get _yourself_ into bed."

Tony gave her a seductive wink and her eyes went wide.

"I don't know why I even bother. You're obviously too feverish to think with your head... well, at least one of them," she said with a smirk and this time it was Tony who rolled his eyes. He was getting tired of keeping up the banter and knew that Ziva wouldn't let it just go.

"So, you want to tell Gibbs that I went home because _you_ think I'm _hot_?" he tried and frowned when Ziva's eyes narrowed and she gave him that speculative look.

"No," she said after a long moment. "I think I will just let _you _tell him."

"Yeah, when Hell freezes over," Tony muttered, but Ziva didn't reply, because just then the two people in the interrogation room pulled their attention back to the case. Elyse Clayton had raised her voice and she was obviously fighting tears, though Tony wasn't sure if they were tears of fear or anger.

"I-I couldn't tell you a-about her. He told me he would... kill me if I did!" she shouted and Gibbs leaned forward in his seat.

"Who told you?"

"I-I don't know. Some m-man. He called j-just before you arrived and I-I couldn't... oh God, what if he does come after m-me?!" She looked distraught enough and Gibbs pushed the paper cup of water closer to her. She took the offered drink and tried to calm down, even though her eyes were still jumping around the room, the hand holding the cup shaking.

"Did he tell you anything else? Did you know that your husband was dead?" Gibbs continued with the barrage of questions, but the woman just shook her head.

"N-no, I didn't know until you came, and then... then I knew that he was right, that he could kill me. Oh god, why did it happen to Martin? He didn't do anything…" She was babbling now and Gibbs let it go, turning to the mirror, giving a slight nod.

"I'll go and check the phone records, see if she got any calls before you two arrived," Tony spoke hastily and made his escape, while Ziva shook her head.

"You might run, but you won't escape," she mumbled and when Gibbs left the interrogation room, she already had a plan. If Tony wasn't listening to her and if Gibbs didn't want to acknowledge the fact that DiNozzo didn't belong at work, there was still one person who could 'pull rank'.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Here goes chapter five. As always, thanks to those who reviewed and a special thanks to my beta everybetty.I hope you'll like this chapter - grin-

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**Chapter Five**

As soon as he saw Ducky entering the bullpen, Tony knew it was futile to attempt an escape. He should've told Gibbs that he wasn't feeling well and would be taking the rest of the day off to go home and get some sleep. But no, he had to play hero and now he had have Ducky on his back, too. And because he didn't come to see him in the morning as promised, it was a pissed off Ducky. Tony cringed, knowing that an angry physician of whatever specialization could only mean one thing... big, scary needles.

He tried to look inconspicuous as he talked into the phone, throwing Ducky a light smile when the older man sat himself on his desk, arms crossed on his chest, waiting. Tony tried to keep the talk up as long as possible, but when the woman on the other end gave him all the info, she simply ended the call. So, with a feeling of trepidation, Tony hung up too.

"Now, my dear boy, I thought we had an agreement. You were supposed to see me right in the morning. Instead, I have to drag my old bones all the way here because Agent David thought you needed some 'pep talk'."

'Damn!' Tony thought and looked around for Ziva, ready to chew her out, but she had conveniently vanished to the Ladies room. So Tony aimed his deathly glare at McGee, who was sitting behind his desk, looking smug.

"I don't know what Ziva told you, Ducky, but I feel fine." Tony turned back to the M.E., trying to look much healthier than he felt.

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that, Anthony?" Ducky said and without warning leaned over and laid his hand on Tony's forehead. Tony gruffed and pulled away but not before Ducky let out a displeased sigh.

"I should agree with Agent David's assessment that you're feverish-"

"I'm not! I feel fine!" Tony protested fiercely.

"-and probably hallucinating if you think I would believe such a ridiculous statement, my boy. Now do I have to call in Abby to haul you down to Autopsy, or are you coming willingly?"

Ducky waited for the reply and Tony looked around, half expecting to see Abby standing by the elevator, frowning at him, hands on her hips and pigtails flailing in the air... Tony blinked, thinking that maybe he really should take up Ducky's offer before he started seeing something more sinister, like a pissed off Gibbs. He heard something like a snort coming from McGee's table, but the probie quickly covered it with a cough.

"No need to bother Abby," he finally said and tried to smile, but instead grimaced when Gibbs appeared from out of nowhere.

"I see Mohamed decided to come to the mountain," Gibbs commented.

"Yes, well, someone has to have some common sense," Ducky retorted, throwing Gibbs a disgruntled look. He obviously wasn't pleased with the man any more than he was pleased with Tony.

"Now if you'll excuse us, gentlemen, I'll need to borrow Anthony for a while," Ducky said, his eyes never leaving Gibbs, as if daring him to protest.

"He's all yours, Duck. And DiNozzo?"

"Yeah, boss?" he asked, puzzled by the silent communication that ran between the two men.

"When you finish, I don't want to see your ass anywhere near your desk, or the lab, until tomorrow. Is that clear?"

Tony opened his mouth to protest, but saw Gibbs' raised eyebrow and decided that this fight was already over. There wasn't much he could do behind the desk right now, and McGee and Ziva had things under control. Not to mention the fact that Gibbs obviously wasn't in his best mood, so a hasty retreat was in his best interest.

"Absolutely, boss."

oOoOo

The silence in the elevator spoke volumes about Ducky's mood and even though Tony felt a need to say something, he stayed silent too, not wanting to pull any attention to himself. An act which was perfectly spoiled when the tickle in his throat announced another round of coughing.

While Tony tried not to hack up his lungs, Ducky muttered something under his breath and steered Tony out of the elevator and to the nearest table.

"When did you start coughing?" Ducky asked as soon as Tony managed to take a normal breath. "And don't lie to me, Anthony. Did you know that the effects of smoke inhalation can present themselves as late as 36 hours after the fire?"

Tony wanted to make a joke, but Ducky's words stopped him. The M.E. was obviously concerned and after his experience with the plague, well, Tony didn't like to see anyone with a medical diploma concerned about his health. Maybe going for the truth this time wasn't such a bad idea. He took a breath and relented.

"It started getting bad this morning, after I came to work." Tony cleared his throat, his voice hoarse.

"Open up," Ducky said and Tony obeyed without protest. "Hm, like I thought. There seems to be some inflammation. It would really help us to know exactly what chemicals were involved in the fire, in case your reaction is due to pulmonary irritation."

"Huh?" was all Tony managed before he had a thermometer stuck in his mouth.

"Take off your shirt, and don't talk," Ducky warned him. "Pulmonary irritation is caused by the chemical particles that are released in the air during the fire. Combustion can result in the formation of chemicals that cause direct injury when they contact the skin and mucous membranes. These substances disrupt the normal lining of the respiratory tract. This disruption can potentially cause swelling, airway collapse, and respiratory distress," Ducky explained, not taking notice of the fact that Tony lost track of what was said right after he was told to stop talking. But he still caught the words like airway collapse and distress.

"Oh, that's reassuring," Tony mumbled around the thermometer, eyes wide.

"Of course, there is also a greater chance of secondary infection which can result in bronchitis or bacterial pneumonia. Now take a deep breath…" Ducky paused and listened as Tony took several deep breaths; well, as deep as he could manage anyway. "In your case, it might start a little sooner, due to your already damaged lungs."

"Great," Tony mumbled, pulling the thermometer from his mouth. Before he could check it though, Ducky took it from him, then frowned.

"What?" Tony asked, not at all curious.

"100.9. It's definitely a fever."

Ducky shook off the thermometer and put it away, reaching for a BP cuff, when the phone on his desk started ringing. He gave Tony a look that clearly said 'Stay!' and went to take the call. Tony rolled his eyes, then started playing with the cuff, trying to see how much it could inflate, listening only halfway to the one sided conversation- at least until he caught a familiar name. He stopped playing and raised his head, paying full attention to Ducky's voice, but finding it hard to orient on the medical jargon he was using.

Once the phone call ended, Ducky scribbled down on the block of paper and turned back to Tony.

"Why did Brad call you?" Tony asked, suspicious.

"I'd called him earlier, but he was unavailable so I left him a note to call back," Ducky explained, then threw Tony a dismayed look when he saw the fully inflated cuff. Letting out a sigh, he took the item from Tony, deflated it and put it to right use.

"Yeah, but _why_ did you call him?"

"Because I was interested in his professional opinion. There aren't many people who have survived a genetically altered plague and can still talk about it."

"Yeah, and even fewer that he had a chance to poke and probe," Tony gruffed then yelped. "Hey, I think the cuff is tight enough now."

Ducky raised his eyebrows.

"Okay, I get it. No heckling the medical professional," said Tony with a sigh and got a satisfied nod in reply.

"We're only trying to help you, Anthony."

"And I really appreciate it, Ducky," Tony quickly replied. "I just wish it didn't involve any needles and painful tests like it did the last time.

"I'm sure Dr. Pitt has only your best interest in mind, as do I. Surely you won't protest a few 'painless' tests?" Ducky said with an amused glint in his eyes and Tony perked up.

"What?"

"Dr. Pitt isn't in town, but he made an appointment for you tomorrow morning at the local hospital. Here's the address, the name of the doctor and also a few prescriptions Dr. Pitt approved. Be sure to pick them up as soon as possible and you'd better use them, Anthony. I'll also inform Jethro that you'll be on sick leave tomorrow."

That was Ducky's polite way of telling Tony he'd better do what he said, or there would be repercussions in the form of one pissed off Gibbs _and_ physician, both of whom had a big say in when he would be allowed back on full duty. Tony swallowed, taking the offered prescriptions. He tried his kicked puppy look, but the M.E. quickly turned away.

"Now go, I have some work to do. Oh, and if you feel worse, call me."

Tony gaped at the obvious dismissal, but found himself unable to protest. He muttered a thanks and see ya, then left Autopsy. Once out in the hall, he called for the elevator and leaned against the wall, waiting. He wasn't sure what he should do... obviously, someone else had made the program of the day for him. But hell if he would just do as he was told. Tony felt the anger rise at the thought that he was was being treated like a little kid. Well, they wanted him out of the office, that was clear. They told him to go home, too, but neither of the men specified just where his home was right now. When the elevator arrived and the door opened, Tony had already planned his day.

oOoOo

"Tony!" Abby yelped in surprise when he touched her shoulder to get her attention. The music was playing so loud that he almost didn't hear her. The next second Tony could barely breathe because Abby was giving him one of her 'hugs'.

"What are you doing here? McGee told me that you didn't feel good and that Gibbs and Ducky sent you home!"

"Oh, I bet he did," Tony growled then grunted when the fierce hug let up and Abby hit him on the shoulder.

"Ouch. What was that for?"

"I didn't like the tone. And McGee was right, you _look_ sick. Why aren't you home?"

"Uh, can you turn down the music? Thanks," he let out a relieved sigh as she lowered the volume. "For starters, I am _fine!_" He didn't even need to look to know she'd just rolled her eyes. "And I _am_ going home. I just stopped here to ask if I can borrow one of your laptops. If you don't need it, that is."

"Of course!" she said with a smile that quickly changed into suspicion. "What do you need it for? Not work, I hope."

"No, not work," Tony hastily replied. "Just to watch some DVD's, play some games, you know. Gibbs doesn't have cable and I will really go crazy with boredom if I don't have anything to do."

"You know, if you're sick, you don't have to do anything but rest. That's kind of the point," Abby said but she was already looking around, deciding which computer she wouldn't need.

"Here, this one is perfect. McGee sometimes takes it home so there're plenty of games on it," she said with a wink.

"Great, thanks very much, Abby. I'll bring you an extra big CafPow the next time." Tony took the laptop and gave Abby a big smile, then hesitated.

"Uhm, I know how this sounds, but..."

Abby raised her eyebrows in question, arms crossed on her chest and Tony nervously cleared his throat, which only resulted in more coughing.

"Oh, my poor baby, you really should be in bed," she crooned when he recovered and Tony blushed.

"Heading that way," he muttered, deciding that this was his chance. "Could you upload some files onto the laptop, Abs?" He shot her his best puppy dog look. She narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

"What files?"

"Uhm, case files?" Tony tried. "At least, what we have about the fire in my building. And maybe some stuff from the Clayton's case?"

"You're not supposed to work," Abby reminded him and Tony gave her a sheepish shrug.

"You know me, Abs. I just want to take a look at it, see if there isn't something the local cops might've missed. Now, come on, I swear I will stay in bed and if I find something I'll call you right away. Or Gibbs. Please?"

Abby watched him for a moment, than let out a heavy sigh and pulled the computer from his hands. Tony grinned.

"If you don't keep your promise, _I _swear that I will make sure Ziva and McGee learn about every stupid thing you did before they came to work here. And don't think I don't keep tabs," she warned him and Tony swallowed.

"Abby, you know that I love you, right?" he tried and she laughed, waving a warning finger at him.

"That won't work with me, Mister. If you get yourself into trouble because of these files, I'll do what I said. But I love you too, Tony," she added with a wink, and then handed him the laptop.

"Now go, because I have a feeling that Gibbs is on his way and you're _so_ not supposed to be here."

"Better get going," Tony nodded and headed for the door, but turned. "Thanks, Abby."

"You're welcome," she answered, then turned on the music just as the computer chirped and the monitor showed Gibbs' face. "Speak of the devil," she thought and smiled. "Hey, Gibbs!"

oOoOo

Tony paid the cab driver and got out of the car, stopping a few yards before the door to his apartment building. He looked up and saw the dark smudges that the flames had painted on the walls of several apartments around the one where the fire started. He could see that the glass was missing from Casper's apartment and instead there was plastic covering the windows. There were some trails from the fire squad car on the lawn before the building, but otherwise it was quiet. Maybe because it was the middle of the day, the kids were still at school and the adults were working, but it kinda looked dead and Tony shivered.

When he walked the hallway, he started wondering just how he had managed to escape. The last clear memory he had was of Casper's burning body, then nothing until he'd woken up in the ambulance. Yet there must've been someone who pulled him out. Maybe a fireman, or one of his neighbours? Tony didn't know, but he realised he would need to find out. If nothing else, then so he could thank the person for saving his life.

Passing Casper's door, Tony froze. There was a police tape seal over the door, but thanks to him breaking the door in his haste to get in, it wasn't totally shut and he could see a little inside. Tony came closer and peeked through the door, only to turn away as his stomach protested. He didn't need a visual reminder; he could still smell the burning flesh. Taking in several deep breaths, Tony shook his head and somewhat dizzily walked to his own apartment. First thing he did was open all the windows. He needed fresh air; the smell of the smoke and fire had already soaked into the furniture, and it did nothing to help with his breathing. Tony's throat constricted and he leaned out of the window, gasping for breath. Oh yeah, maybe coming home wasn't the best idea after all.

Once his breathing calmed down, Tony went into his bedroom and picked out a big sports bag, then started packing things. He took only some of his clothes, sure that even laundry wouldn't wash away the smell that lingered. Next thing he went for some of his personal stuff and finally he packed some of his DVD collection. If he had to stay at Gibbs' for a while, he sure could use some distraction.

He was almost done when he saw a movement. Tony froze, looking up at the plastic and tape that was the only thing covering the hole in his living room's wall. For a long moment there was nothing, and he'd almost dismissed the whole thing as just a hallucination, when he saw a dark smudge move. This time he heard it, too. Careful footsteps that sometimes shuffled against the debris that was left in Casper's apartment. Hands, touching the walls, knocking and searching.

Tony stood, careful not to make any sound. The figure was already gone from his field of vision, but he could still hear it. Taking a step to the hole in the wall, Tony slowly, very carefully, peeled off some of the plastic so he could peek into Casper's living room. He got a glimpse of a man in a dark jacket, probing the far wall, then finally finding what he was looking for. Tony watched as the man skilfully attached some device to the safe that was hidden in the wall and started putting in the code. Cursing, Tony let the plastic fell back to its place and slowly made his way to the hallway, taking out his phone. He shot one look at Casper's door and when he saw the police tape cut and lying on the floor, he dialled Gibbs' number.

"Is there a problem, DiNozzo?" Gibbs' voice grumbled in the phone.

"Listen, boss," Tony whispered. "This is important. I stopped at my place to pick up some things. There's a guy in Casper's apartment, trying to open a safe we didn't even know about. I'm pretty sure he's not a cop, boss."

"Stay where you are, and don't do anything stupid. Do you hear me, DiNozzo? We're on our way." With that Gibbs ended the phone call, leaving Tony staring at the phone.

"Great!" he mumbled, irritated. "Why the hell is everyone telling me what to do?" he thought, but didn't ponder it, because just then he heard a satisfied 'Yes! Here you are!" coming from the apartment and he realised that if he waited for Gibbs, all he would be able to show him would be an empty safe, because the guy would be long gone. Pulling out his gun, he took a breath, assumed position against the wall and aimed at the door, waiting.

"Freeze! NCIS!" Tony shouted as soon as the man took a step outside. Tony could see that he didn't have a gun, but he was clutching a knife in one hand, a CD in the other. That must've been what he was looking for in the first place. The man froze and slowly turned his head to look at Tony. He didn't speak, but his eyes were staring at Tony coldly. It made him nervous.

"Put the knife down, and move to the wall!" Tony said, trying to keep his voice steady. "I said, put that knife down!" he shouted and this time the man made a slow motion as if he was really considering putting the knife away. Tony followed his motion with the muzzle of his gun and when the knife was on the ground, he quickly kicked it away, then pointed at the man.

"Now put your hands on the wall!" The man once again did as he was told, slowly, but without protest. Tony blinked as a drop of sweat trickled down his face and moved closer, one hand still pointing the gun at the man's back, the other reaching to search for another weapon. That was when his breathing hitched and he had to cough or simply risk suffocation. His left hand automatically went to his chest and the gun in his hand wavered.

The man used the distraction to his advantage and swiftly turned, kicking the gun out of Tony's hand with one smooth motion. Tony's eyes went wide and he backed away, barely avoiding another kick. Remembering the hours spent in the gym with Ziva and Gibbs, he quickly recovered and went for his own attack. He tried to put on the move Gibbs used on him, to pull his opponent's leg out from under him then shove him to the ground. But his attacker saw it coming and countered the move, hitting Tony in the chest, then pinning him against the wall.

"You don't know what you got yourself into, boy," the man hissed into his face and Tony blinked, gasping for breath and fighting to get out of his clutches, but it was to no avail. The man was strong and he was holding Tony's throat, squeezing it.

"Let... me... go!" Tony pushed out through clenched teeth and made one last attempt to kick out. The man only laughed and shook his head.

"I don't want to kill you. I just came for what was mine. But if we meet again, I won't hesitate. Do you understand?"

Tony glared at his attacker, but finally managed a nod. Satisfied, the man let go of his throat and Tony slid down the wall, gasping and coughing, trying to get some oxygen into his lungs, his vision turning grey. The man knelt in front of him and Tony felt the panic once again constricting his throat when he saw that the man was clutching his own gun.

"Sweet dreams," the man said and before Tony could react, he brought the gun down hard on the agent's head.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Here goes the next chapter. Thansk to all who reviewed and also big thanks goes to everybetty for the beta. Now go on and enjoy the story.

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Chapter 6

McGee clutched the hand rest as the car swerved wildly into the next lane. Horns blared but they were ignored by Gibbs, who was apparently trying for a new speed record to Tony's apartment.

"I'm sure he will be okay, boss," McGee spoke between clenched teeth, for once thankful for the fact he hadn't had any lunch yet.

Gibbs only threw him a short glare. "Any word from Ziva?" he barked, concentration back on the road.

"She checked in fifteen minutes earlier. Elyse Clayton was enjoying her bath. No sign of movement around her house, but we're watching her phone. If she makes any calls from her land line or cell phone, Abby will let us know. Do you really think she has something to do with her husband's death?" he asked sheepishly

"I don't know, McGee. What do you think?" Gibbs asked sarcastically and McGee almost bit his lip to stop himself from shouting: "Red!"

"I think we just had a red light," he stuttered out instead after they passed a crossroad, leaving the blaring horns behind.

"I didn't notice," Gibbs said with a smirk that made McGee doubt the sanity of whomever had given Gibbs his driver's license.

It took them another ten minutes and a lot of silent cursing on McGee's part to arrive at Tony's apartment building. When the car finally stopped, McGee had an urge to kneel down and kiss the ground, but refrained from it and instead just took in several calming breaths. He winced a little when he saw the traces of the fire on the building and tried to imagine what it must've been like to wake up in the middle of the night to see smoke coming through your living room where a wall used to be.

"McGee!" Gibbs barked and McGee jerked into motion. They made it up the stairs, not waiting for the elevator. At least Tony wasn't living up high, just the fourth floor. Still McGee was a little breathless when they broke into the hall, weapons ready. Exchanging a quick glance and a nod, McGee and Gibbs started sweeping the floor. It didn't take long and they reached the corner. Another look and Gibbs was rounding the corner, the muzzle of the gun sweeping the hallway until it stopped at the familiar figure.

"Damn it!" Gibbs cursed and made his way over to the fallen agent. He quickly checked for a pulse, letting out a silent thanks, then turned to McGee, who was looking wide-eyed at Tony.

"He's alive. Stay with him," Gibbs hissed and after a short nod from McGee, he vanished behind the open door. McGee kept his eyes on the hallway, listening for any sign that his boss may need him, but his eyes often strayed to the prone body lying on the floor, instinctively checking for breathing.

"Tony?" he asked and nudged the man, but didn't get a reply which made his concern grow. He could see the blood running down Tony's face from a deep cut above his left eye, the skin around it already bruising. There were also more signs of fight, the most visible the fingerprints on Tony's neck.

"It's all clear," came a growl from the door and McGee jumped, throwing an apologetic look at Gibbs. He'd stopped paying attention to the hall and anticipated a smack to the head and some choice words, maybe a threat to be Ziva's sparring partner for the next month, but Gibbs seemed to overlook it for once, his attention back on Tony.

"What the hell are you waiting for, McGee? Call an ambulance!" he ordered and knelt down, once again checking for pulse and breathing. Giving him a quick once-over for broken limbs or any other injury, Gibbs found Tony's gun lying under his limp form, the handle stained with blood. He carefully pushed the gun away, nodding at McGee who was on the cell phone calling the ambulance. McGee saw the gun and nodded in turn, heading out for his kit. Satisfied, Gibbs peeled one of Tony's eyes open, then the other and checked for pupil response.

"Come on, DiNozzo. Stop playing possum, the bad guy's gone. Time to wake up," Gibbs urged and gave Tony's shoulder a squeeze. The only reaction was a slight hitch in Tony's breathing. Gibbs shook his head and squeezed harder, probably leaving a few bruises of his own. This time there was a slight moan and Tony moved his hand in a feeble attempt to swat away the annoyance. Gibbs grinned.

"You won't get rid of me that easily, DiNozzo. Now open those damn eyes or I swear I will tell Ziva that it was you who broke her favorite stapler."

"Bastard," Tony mumbled and with an effort managed to open one eye. He quickly closed it though and groaned.

"You're lucky I can't smack you, DiNozzo," Gibbs growled and saw Tony wince. "And I think I said both eyes, Tony." Gibbs lowered his voice and gently inspected the bruises that covered Tony's neck. When Tony felt the touch he gasped and instinctively pulled away, panicking at Gibbs' attempt to keep him still.

"Hey, Tony? Tony!" Gibbs called loudly, trying to get the man's attention all the while pushing at his shoulders to keep him down. "Look at me, DiNozzo. Damn it, look at me!" he snapped and this time Tony listened, looking up at him with wide, unfocused eyes.

"It's okay. Just calm down and breathe. And for chrissake, stop moving around."

"Easier said... than done, boss," Tony gasped, bolting half upright, then started coughing. He grimaced as the action brought up another wave of pain, not just from his lungs but from his head too. Letting out a groan, Tony fell back to the ground; the only thing stopping him from hitting his head again was Gibbs' hand slowing his descent.

"The ambulance is on the way, boss," McGee reported and looked down in concern when Tony moaned.

"Is he awake?"

"No, probie, I'm still unconscious," Tony uttered through clenched teeth, then added with more force, "and I don't need any damn ambulance."

"Yeah, says the man who can't even open his eyes," McGee ribbed but was glad when Tony offered him a glare, however short and unfocused it was. McGee opened the kit he' brought from the car, pulling on his gloves and carefully putting Tony's gun into the evidence bag, hoping that they could find some prints on it.

"Will get you back for that," Tony mumbled and reached up, trying to touch his head.

"Don't touch it," Gibbs said with a tone that Tony had last heard when he was six and skinned his knees. He didn't appreciate it then and he didn't listen to it now either. He winced as his fingers connected with the broken skin and the sight of blood didn't make him feel any better.

"Damn, hope it won't need stitches," he said and blinked. He could swear he saw Gibbs roll his eyes and heard McGee chuckle, but given the fact that Gibbs' face kept swimming in and out of focus like a badly tuned TV, and the roar in his ears was getting louder and louder, he didn't say a word. "Hm, gonna sleep," Tony whispered instead as everything faded.

"Tony? Keep your eyes open," Gibbs voice urged him, suddenly sounding worried, which was funny because Gibbs never sounded worried. He might've been pissed and angry- hell, he even might've been 'concerned'- but never worried. And what was that about keeping his eyes open?

"Sorry boss, kinda tired," Tony mumbled but came quickly awake and yelped in pain as a knuckle rubbed _hard_ against his sternum.

"Wha- what was that for?" he turned an accusing glare at Gibbs, surprised when he saw the look of relief on his face.

"Just a warning, DiNozzo. I told you to stay awake!"

"No, you told me to keep my eyes open," Tony protested. "Nothing about staying awake," he pouted, realizing a little too late that now he sounded like a six year old.

"Well, if you can sleep with open eyes, be my guest. But keep them open. That's an order, DiNozzo. Understand?"

"Right, boss. Staying awake," he mumbled, closing his eyes, only to jerk them open a second later. "I'm awake," he added quickly when he felt the hand on his chest.

"Good." Gibbs nodded and gave him a gentle tap, then turned to McGee.

"What the hell was the ETA of that ambulance, McGee?" he barked, but even before McGee opened his mouth to reply, they could hear the sirens approaching.

"I'll go and fetch them, Boss," McGee said and quickly vanished. Gibbs let out a sigh and turned back to Tony, seeing him struggling to keep his eyes open.

"What happened before we came, DiNozzo?" he asked, hoping that it would keep his agent awake as well as give him a clue as to what was going on.

"Huh?" Tony startled, blinking.

"Report, DiNozzo," Gibbs went for the business tone, relieved when he saw some of the fog clearing up in those dark eyes.

"I-I'm not sure, boss," Tony started but the look on Gibbs face urged him to go on.

"Something blew up... and there was fire and smoke, lots of smoke. I tried to get out and there was a man... he was burning, Gibbs. I tried to help him, but I... couldn't," Tony coughed and shook his head, grimacing. "I just couldn't." He shot Gibbs a pained look, rubbing the side of his head.

"M' head hurts, boss," he said with a sigh when Gibbs pulled his hand away.

"I imagine it would. But I need to know what happened today, Tony. Not yesterday."

"Huh? I don't understand, boss," Tony mumbled and blinked. "I remember the fire, and the man. He pulled me out, but then he... pulled a knife on me?" Tony asked, confused by the mix of images that was playing in his head.

"Who, Tony? Was it the same guy that pulled you out?" Gibbs asked, frowning. If Tony was right, then it didn't make any sense. But then, Tony himself didn't make much sense right now.

"He took something from the safe," Tony said finally. "Boss, I'm sorry, I let him go. I wanted to stop him, but-" Tony's breath hitched as his heart sped up and Gibbs realized he should stop him before he started panicking.

"Hey, it's okay, Tony. We will get him. Relax." He gave Tony's shoulder another squeeze.

"We will get him," Tony repeated and gave Gibbs a slight apologetic grin. "Really tired now, boss," he mumbled and closed his eyes, losing his fight with sleep.

Gibbs quickly checked his pulse and breathing and looked down the hall when he heard the paramedics finally arriving.

"About damn time," he snarled and stood, letting the medics do their jobs. He stood by the wall, McGee next to him and they watched as Tony was put on the stretcher, his vitals taken and radioed ahead. One of the medics turned to Gibbs and asked him some questions about Tony's status before they arrived. Gibbs gave him a short summary along with Tony's involvement in the fire yesterday and warned him about earlier respiratory problems.

"What kind of problems?" asked the medic.

"Plague," Gibbs shot back, losing patience. "Check in with Dr. Pitt, he was DiNozzo's physician at the time." He pulled a card out of his wallet and shoved it at the startled medic.

"O -okay," he replied, a little doubtful if the man wasn't just pulling his leg, but one look from McGee was enough to convince him. With a nod he told the agents to which hospital Tony was being taken then followed the stretcher out.

Gibbs waited until Tony was gone, then turned to look at McGee.

"Process the scene, McGee," he snapped and not waiting for a reply, turned away, pulling out his cell phone.

oOoOo

By the time detective Richards and his team arrived, Gibbs and McGee had already taken some photos of the scene and checked all the other apartments on the floor if someone didn't hear or see anything. They finished quickly, because the apartments closest to the source of fire were empty, their occupants having been offered alternate accommodations until the inspectors had a chance to finish their work. There were some people who stayed, but it was mostly on the farther end of the hallway, and most of them were at work. Still, they were lucky enough and when Gibbs knocked on one of the doors closest to the elevator, an older woman peeked out.

"Hello, I'm Agent Gibbs, NCIS. Could I ask you few questions?"

"Is this about the fire yesterday?" the woman asked sheepishly, the door opened only as far as the bolt allowed.

Gibbs gave her a short nod. "Partly, Mrs. Friedrich?" he frowned at the name tag on the door and the woman smiled.

"My husband is from Germany. But I can't help you... I wasn't home when the fire started. We just returned this morning... to find this." She nodded down the hall, toward Casper's apartment.

"Okay, but I'd guess that you were home for the last hour?"

"Yes," Mrs. Friedrich frowned. "Why?"

"Did you see anything strange going on in the hallway? Or did you see someone?" Gibbs asked and watched as the woman looked away, suddenly shy.

"Mrs. Friedrich? It's important. Did you see or hear something?"

"The ambulance. I heard the sirens, then saw someone being taken away on a stretcher," she replied, her voice low as if she was afraid to speak louder.

"That was my agent, Tony. He's living in the apartment on the other side of the hall. He was attacked maybe half an hour ago," Gibbs said and gave her a cold look.

"I'm sorry. Will he be alright?"

"He was hurt. Mrs. Friedrich, can you tell me anything that would help?" he asked, his tone serious and demanding.

"I didn't know what happened, I swear. My husband had to go to work soon after we came home. I wanted to talk with some of our neighbors to find out exactly what happened, but no one was home, so I returned home. I was just preparing some snacks, when I heard the shouting. It startled me, and I went to the door, to check it out. I couldn't see anything, but I didn't want to go out. Understand me, Agent Gibbs. If my neighbors were here, I wouldn't hesitate. But after all this... I was scared. So I stayed home."

"Did you hear what the shouting was about?" Gibbs pressed for more information.

"No." She shook her head. "It was down the hall, too far and it didn't last long. There were some sounds of a scuffle, grunts and such, but then it all stopped. I was looking out through the peephole and saw that man running to the stairs."

"You didn't go out to see what happened?" Gibbs asked and Mrs. Friedrich shook her head.

"I'm sorry. I know I should have, but I was afraid. And when I didn't hear anything else, I thought it was just some small fight. It happens. There was no shooting or screaming."

"How long ago was that?"

"Maybe thirty minutes from when the ambulance arrived. I'm really sorry, Agent Gibbs. I hope that Tony will be all right. I met him few times in the elevator and he seems like a nice man."

Gibbs saw that the woman really was sorry and he let out a sigh.

"He should be fine, Mrs. Friedrich. Tony has a hard head." He paused, then raised his eyebrows.

"You said you saw that man. Could you tell us what he looks like?"

Mrs. Friedrich blinked, giving it a thought, then closed her eyes, trying to remember.

"He was wearing a dark jacket and jeans. He was tall, a little older than me I think, but it's hard to guess the man's age. Could've been something between thirty five and fifty. He had dark brown hair and..." She frowned, shaking her head and looking up at Gibbs with disappointment. "I'm sorry, but I can't tell you more. You know how those peepholes distort the image and he passed my door really quickly."

"That's okay, Mrs. Friedrich. You already helped us. Do you think you could identify the man if you saw him?"

"I doubt it, Agent Gibbs."

"Okay. Here's my phone number. If you remember anything useful, just give me a call." Gibbs handed her a card then said goodbye. He was heading back to Casper's apartment to see if McGee had found something useful, when he heard the elevator move. He turned and leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

"And here you are, Detective Richards. Just in time," Gibbs said when the door opened and three people stepped out, two of them fitted in a CSU's clothes. The third man to step out was a spitting image of Telly Savalas in his younger years. If Tony had a chance to meet the detective he probably wouldn't have missed a beat and would've jabbed him with a ton of jokes or Kojak references, but luckily Tony wasn't here. As it was, the detective didn't mind the welcome he got from Gibbs. Even from their first meeting, the two men didn't start out on the right foot and the tension right now was almost visible.

"Hello, Agent Gibbs. Once again doing our job, I see?" Richards commented when he saw McGee checking out the empty safe.

"Well, someone needs to do it," Gibbs said and cast Richards a cold look that would've had a better effect if it wasn't mirrored with a similar glare from the detective.

"Okay, guys." Richards looked at the two forensics techs that were watching the exchange with growing interest, along with McGee. "Make sure you don't miss anything this time."

The two guys nodded and started working, one of them turning to McGee, asking him if he'd moved anything.

Detective Richards watched them for a moment, then turned to Gibbs and pointed to the hall. They needed to talk but didn't need the audience.

"Okay, let's clear this up, Agent Gibbs," Richards started once they were out of the apartment. "I know you're angry because your man was hurt, but that's not my fault. I don't know what he was doing here or what was he thinking, apprehending a possibly armed suspect by himself. But my team did everything they could to get the evidence we needed."

"Well, they didn't do such a good job at finding the safe," Gibbs finally snapped.

"Maybe because Casper did a damn good job hiding it, Agent Gibbs," Richards shot back, equally angry.

"You should've looked better then," Gibbs retorted and took a step closer to Richards, so he was almost breathing into his face. "Now you listen to me, Detective. Agent DiNozzo was just doing his job. He saw a suspect, he called it in. I gave him clear orders not to do anything until we arrived, and DiNozzo knows better than to disobey my orders. If he made a mistake by trying to stop him, I will deal with him as I see fit. But you aren't handling this case the way it should be handled. This isn't just arson and homicide. If Casper had something in that safe, it was probably the reason he was killed. So was either drugs, money, or some information. Either case, it was important enough for someone to risk returning to the scene."

"But none of those things fall under Naval jurisdiction," Detective Richards said, looking into Gibbs' eyes with a fierceness that under other circumstances Gibbs could only admire, but right now just pissed him off.

"No, but an attack on my agent does."

"Your agent had trespassed on my crime scene!" Richards shouted and Gibbs gave him a smirk.

"No, DiNozzo didn't set a foot into Casper's apartment. He was in the hall when the suspect attacked him."

The detective blinked, then let out a resigned sigh.

"Look, Agent Gibbs. This doesn't take us anywhere. Each of us could investigate this case, but we won't get anywhere if you hide evidence from me."

"Or the other way around, Detective," Gibbs said, his tone also a little calmer. Richards was right. They needed to work on this together. NCIS might've had better sources, but Gibbs doubted Director Shepard would clear a full-blown investigation. They had enough work as it was.

"We could always use some help with the investigation," Richards hinted and Gibbs gave a short nod. "We still don't know what this is all this about. Our only clue right now is the man that attacked Agent DiNozzo. All the other evidence burned in the fire. But if we find this man, we can find out what was in that safe."

The two exchanged a long, sincere look that was broken by a noise coming from McGee.

"Uh, Boss?" McGee cleared his throat, not sure what he just interrupted.

"What is it, McGee?" Gibbs growled and turned to look at him.

"Sorry to interrupt, but the office called. Clayton's sister just arrived from Dallas."

Gibbs nodded and spared one last look to Richards.

"I'll do my job, you do yours, Detective."

Richards nodded and waited until Gibbs and McGee vanished in the elevator before letting out a relieved sigh. He knew the Marine's reputation and just as well knew that he was lucky DiNozzo wasn't hurt worse. He also knew that there was no more room for mistake in this investigation: not if he didn't want to get on the bad side of Agent Gibbs. Having that on his mind, Detective Richards walked into Casper's apartment to check on his own team.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Well, here goes chapter seven, I hope you'll like it. Thanks to all who reviewed and a special thanks to my beta _everybetty_. Enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter 7**

The woman waiting next to his desk looked nothing like how Gibbs had imagined her to be. She was small, almost tiny, and looked as if the slightest raised voice would blow her over. But that was just the first impression, one that didn't really fit the woman at all. As Gibbs approached her, he could see the fire in her eyes, the anger and sorrow that he was missing when he looked at Clayton's wife.

"Maggie Brighton? I'm Agent Gibbs."

She looked at him and stood up, her eyes scrutinizing, searching. Finally she nodded and they shook hands.

"I appreciate that you came, Miss Brighton."

"I was on my way anyway, Agent Gibbs. I missed out a lot of my brother's life, and I'm not about to miss his funeral too," she said, her voice soft and calm. There were dark circles under her eyes, speaking of lack of sleep and maybe some crying, but she seemed to be coping with her brother's death.

"I'm sorry. Maybe we could speak somewhere else?" Gibbs said and pointed down the hall.

Maggie Brighton nodded and followed him to the interrogation room. She seemed to take in her surroundings quickly.

"So, am I a suspect, Agent Gibbs?" she asked and raised her eyebrows questioningly.

Gibbs smiled. "No. I thought you would like some privacy and this is the best place. But if you want to make a confession I won't stop you."

Maggie Brighton rewarded him with a small smile, then shook her head.

"I'm afraid I won't make it that easy on you, Agent Gibbs. Me and my brother... I must admit we had a strange relationship. There was a time when I denied his existence. There were many years that I didn't know if he was even alive. It took us ten years to heal that gap between us."

"It must've been a pretty big rift, Miss Brighton. Your brother lied to the US Army. He lied when he was recruited, lied to his superior officer even after you two made amends. Why?"

Maggie shook her head with a smile.

"I really doubt my brother intended to lie. If nothing else, he was a straightforward man, always saying what he thought, even if it hurt. That's a trait he inherited from our mother, I'm afraid." Her face darkened and Gibbs looked at her curiously.

"What happened?"

Maggie shook her head and looked into Gibbs eyes.

"If you're asking what happened in our family ten years ago, what caused me to leave, to run from the town I've lived in for my whole life, then I can't answer you, Agent Gibbs. My mother could be short-sighted at times and I'm afraid Martin was too young to stand up to her will. I thought it would be best to leave rather than face her. Maybe it was wrong, maybe I should've stayed, but it's not important now. My brother is dead and we both want to know who is responsible. So Agent Gibbs, ask your questions."

Gibbs smiled, then nodded, resting his arms on the table, holding the ever present coffee.

"I understand that you don't want to talk about what happened ten years ago. But I still need to know what changed. When did you first contact your brother?"

"Actually, it wasn't me who contacted him," Maggie Brighton said with a sad smile. "It was my agent. Two years ago I had a car accident and there was a moment when the doctors weren't sure if I would pull through. My agent was the only one who knew I had a brother, so he contacted him. When I woke up, Martin was in my hospital room."

"So, no hard feelings?"

"No," she shook her head. "We talked it out. Figured we should've done it much sooner."

"What's your agent's name?"

"Brett Hicks." Maggie replied without hesitation and Gibbs wrote down the name. "But if you want to know how many people knew I had a brother, then I will have to admit I don't know now. Probably too many. About six months ago something leaked out on the Internet. A fan found out I had a brother, posted about it on his blog. Luckily there wasn't Martin's name or address, but I think anyone with a little digging could've found him."

Gibbs nodded, grimacing. That wasn't good news.

"When was the last time you talked to your brother?"

"Two days before his death," came the heavy reply and Gibbs saw the glint of tears in Maggie's eyes before she looked away.

"What did you talk about?"

"Nothing special." She shook her head, taking a deep breath. "Just the usual. His work, my work. Love. Life. His marriage," she added and looked up at Gibbs and he waited.

"Martin was a good man, Agent Gibbs. He might've had his faults, but he wasn't paranoid. Yet when we talked I could hear doubt in his voice."

"Doubt?"

"I don't know how good their marriage was. Martin didn't talk with me about that. He knew I didn't like Elyse, knew what I thought of her. Still… he loved her."

"What was wrong with their marriage, Miss Brighton?"

"I think Martin suspected she was cheating on him. He never said it out loud, but when I asked about Elyse, he went silent. Then he told me about the phone calls. That in the last few weeks he caught her talking on the phone, only to end the call as soon as he entered the room. He told me about how she was different ... when he touched her. Colder. Martin asked me what I thought about it."

"What did you tell him?"

Maggie just shrugged her shoulder.

"What could've I told him? That she's probably cheating on him? That he should pack her things and kick her out of the house as soon as possible? I know my brother, Agent Gibbs. He couldn't live in a lie, but he needed to hear the truth from her, not from me. So I told him to talk to her. To confront her about it."

"Do you know if he did it?"

"He told me he would think about it. He needed time." She fell into silence, eyes focused on the one way mirror on the wall as if it was hiding all the answers.

"The last question, Miss Brighton. Did you get any ransom notes? Any threats that would concern family members?"

She blinked, looking back at Gibbs.

"No ransom note, Agent Gibbs. No calls either. As for the threats... I get some hate mail but that goes through my agent. As far as I know, nobody ever threatened my family."

"Okay. Thanks for your help, Miss Brighton." Gibbs stood and gave her a reassuring smile. "We will do what we can to find the people responsible for your brother's death."

"Thank you, Agent Gibbs. If you will need any more information, here's my number," she handed him her card. "I'll be staying in the city until the funeral's over. I have a room at the Hilton, I believe that your agent who contacted me already has an address."

Gibbs nodded and led her out of the room, then headed to Abby's lab, hoping that the young Goth would have some good news.

oOoOo

Ziva was sitting in a car, Clayton's house far enough away that Elyse Clayton wouldn't notice her, but close enough for the telescope on her camera to have a clear view onto the front porch. It was already dark outside and Ziva had been sitting in the car for the last six hours. She desperately needed a break to stretch out her legs and a quick stop at the ladies room, but McGee was late. Elyse Clayton was currently making herself dinner and Ziva's stomach rumbled as she shot a look at the monitor and saw Elyse pull the food out of the microwave, then flop down on the couch and laugh at some silly comedy on the TV. Well, she sure hadn't lost her appetite just because her husband died, Ziva thought smugly and rubbed her stomach. She really should've taken something with her, but hadn't had enough time to prepare for the stake-out.

When Gibbs finished with Elyse's interrogation, she requested to see her husband's body. Ziva had escorted her there and had a short chat with Ducky while Elyse looked into Clayton's dead face, silent tears running down her face. Ziva watched her but couldn't bring herself to feel sorry for the woman. There was simply something off.

Gibbs must've shared her feelings, because the next thing Ziva knew, she was on her way to Clayton's house, setting up the cameras, wiretapping the phone, while Elyse was back at the base her husband worked at, filling out paperwork and picking up his things. Ziva'd had only twenty minutes to grab herself some coffee and a sandwich from the nearest shop, before Elyse Clayton stepped out of the Marine jeep with a box of her husband's possessions.

It was hour two into Ziva's stake-out when McGee let her know about Tony. Ziva fumed. She was angry that she was stuck out there when all she wanted was to get back to the office, find out who the guy who beat Tony was and then bring his ass in. Of course, only after a little 'friendly chat' without witnesses. She was also angry, because she felt partially guilty. After all, if she hadn't gone after Ducky, Tony would probably still be at the office. Cranky maybe, but no worse for wear. It didn't help much that there was absolutely _nothing_ going on in the house she was watching. Only a few consoling phone calls from Clayton's co-workers and Elyse's friends. Ziva listened closely to them, but didn't detect anything strange.

Someone rapped at the window and the door on the passenger's side opened. McGee slid in, grinning apologetically.

"You're late," she stated coldly.

"And I'm sorry," McGee said with as much sincerity as he could muster, quickly pushing a cup of coffee into her hand.

"What? I'm not Gibbs, McGee! Coffee doesn't work for me!" she retorted angrily, but when McGee reached to take the coffee back, she pulled away and glared at him.

"So," McGee took a breath and ignored Ziva's glaring. "Anything interesting happen from the last check-in?"

"Does _this_," she pointed at the monitor where Elyse Clayton was laid out on the couch, munching on her dinner, "look interesting?" Ziva finished with a snort and shook her head.

"Uhm, if you don't count her clothes, or lack of thereof," McGee swallowed, his eyes crawling up Miss Clayton's bare legs, only to cough and shift his eyes to the t-shirt she was wearing when Ziva's hand smacked the back of his head. "Um, nothing interesting. Right. By the way, Tony's doing fine."

"Good," Ziva looked up at McGee. "Do you know what happened?"

"No, but Gibbs is talking with Tony as we speak. You know, you're lucky you weren't at the office," McGee commented somewhat enviously. "Gibbs was in a foul mood the whole afternoon."

"Wonder why," Ziva mumbled, then asked, "Any news from Abby?"

"Uh, yeah, here." McGee fumbled inside his pocket and pulled out a photo. "That's the guy who was driving Clayton's car when it crashed. Abby ran the photo through all the databases but it may take some time. But at least we know what he looks like."

Ziva took the photo and frowned at it in the semidarkness of the car.

"He doesn't look military," she commented at the longer haircut and unshaven face. "Something between twenty-five and thirty, my guess."

"Gibbs also had a little chat with Clayton's sister. She thought that Elyse might have been cheating on her brother, but she wasn't sure."

"Are you keeping tabs on Elyse's bank accounts?"

"Yeah, if there's any movement, we'll know. But there's not much to start with. Either they didn't trust the bank with their savings, or they had a big problem with money management, because-" McGee suddenly stopped.

"Are you listening?" he asked but got only a short nod in reply as something caught Ziva's interest and she grabbed the binoculars.

"What?"

"Pizza," she muttered, frowning. McGee squinted, and only now noticed the tall figure walking toward the house, an unmistakeable box in his hands. "Can you see his face?"

"Yeah. It's not the guy from the photo. This one is too young. Can't be older than eighteen." Still, she hadn't put down the binoculars and McGee frowned.

"So what's so strange about him?"

Ziva shot McGee a look that clearly spoke to the stupidity of his question.

"Well, seeing as I am monitoring all of her calls, none of which was an order for pizza, and seeing as she's just finishing her dinner…" Ziva didn't finish but McGee already got the picture.

"Right," he drawled and focused on the monitor where Elyse Clayton looked startled at the sound of the doorbell and grabbed for her gown on the way to the door. If McGee could tell by the picture on the monitor, she wasn't expecting any visitors and the pizza boy really surprised her. Nevertheless, she took the pizza box, grabbed some money and quickly paid off the delivery boy, then shut the door. While McGee watched as she opened the box, Ziva was already out of the car and running toward the delivery boy's car. She quickly opened the door on the passenger's side and slipped in.

"Hey, what are you doing?" the boy protested but she just pulled out her badge and pointed to the road.

"Just drive down the block, then we will talk. Drive!" she snapped. The boy hesitated only a second, turned on the motor and drove down the street, parking the car a few yards behind Ziva's car.

In the meantime, McGee watched as Elyse Clayton looked through the box, totally ignoring the pizza. After a moment she pulled out a card. McGee squinted, trying to zoom in as much as possible, but he couldn't read what was on the card. Whatever it was though, it couldn't have been a threat. Elyse Clayton put the card on her chest and smiled.

oOoOo

Tony was staring at the ceiling, his eyes unfocused and looking somewhere into the near future, probably full of head slaps and tongue lashings. From the moment he'd woken up in the emergency room and started to remember what exactly happened, he knew that Gibbs would be pissed. That wasn't anything new, but right now Tony didn't want to face an angry Gibbs. Not with the rotten headache and crappy breathing, and especially not after all those damned tests he'd had to go through thanks the diligent Dr. Mallard. As Tony thought about it, he realised that he was pretty angry, too. And a little sleepy. That was an interesting combination, especially when there was a pissed off Gibbs on his way. Tony was thinking that pretending sleep might be a good way of not having to face Gibbs right now, but then he remembered just what the reason was behind his hospital stay and couldn't help but growl. There was no way he would get out of this conversation.

"I didn't know you were bitten by a werewolf, DiNozzo," came a reply to his growl and Tony blinked, turning his head towards the door.

"I wasn't. Yet." Tony muttered and watched as Gibbs pulled the visitor's chair closer to Tony's bed and made himself comfortable on it. He also didn't miss the coffee in his hand, and it wasn't the usual hospital stuff either, but one from Gibb's favorite coffee shop. That meant they were in for a long haul and short of stopping breathing right there, Tony had no chance to get out of this conversation. Letting out a careful sigh, he fidgeted on the bed and pulled himself a little more upright, grimacing when the room swam in reply. Closing his eyes for a moment, he just concentrated on breathing and hoping that yesterday's dinner wouldn't make a comeback.

Gibbs waited patiently until Tony rode out the wave of dizziness, sipping from his coffee and watching the agent with eagle eyes. He took in the IV, the nasal cannula that was there 'just in case' as Ducky said. Luckily, DiNozzo's head was hard and he'd escaped with only a mild concussion. The real reason why they were keeping Tony in the hospital was the fever and the chest infection. Ducky took DiNozzo's 'accident' as a chance to get him properly checked out. The IV was for antibiotics and something against the fever.

Tony finally opened his eyes to shoot a pained look at Gibbs.

"I hate hospitals. And I'm so gonna kick the guy's ass for landing me here."

"You'll have to stand in the line for that," Gibbs muttered and caught Tony's quizzical look, but didn't elaborate. "Ducky said you would've ended up here anyway, so don't complain," Gibbs added with a smile.

"Said Ducky," Tony replied irritably. "Either way, it would be without the headache and the constant waking up by the nurses," he grumbled, to which Gibbs raised his eyebrows, feigning concern.

"You're whining about the fact that you'll be woken up by 'hot nurses' in the middle of the night? Who would either smother you with affection or slap you for looking at them the wrong way?"

Tony frowned, thinking it through, then gave a light shrug.

"Maybe you've got something, boss," he admitted with a grin and Gibbs rolled his eyes. It was time to move on to the real topic and Gibbs put down his coffee and looked at DiNozzo. Tony sensed the change in mood and knew that the light banter was over and it was time for business. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, avoiding the bandage that was covering the stitches above his left eyebrow, then gave a slight nod and slowly started to speak. He told Gibbs about everything he remembered from the moment he left the office, until he woke up in the hospital. Gibbs let him talk. He didn't interrupt with questions, didn't start to berate Tony for the fact he'd disobeyed his order and acted. He just listened, until Tony finished and looked up at Gibbs with a look that said: 'I know you'll yell at me, but can you do it silently, 'cause my head is killing me?'

Gibbs almost smiled. Almost.

"Do you remember the man's face?" Gibbs asked, keeping his voice low and Tony blinked in surprise.

"Uhm, sure. If you give me someone who can draw, sure."

Gibbs nodded. They had a good portraitist working just two floors down in the office.

"Okay. Anything else you can tell me about the man? About what he took from the safe?"

Tony closed his eyes, trying to concentrate, but grimaced instead.

"Sorry, boss. I saw the CD in his hand, but there wasn't anything written on it. It was just a plain CD. And about the man..." Tony opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling, thinking. He had a strange feeling that there was something important, something he was forgetting. But damned if he could remember what. The pain in his head worsened and Tony reached up to rub his eyes, trying to push it back. It didn't help.

Gibbs watched his struggle and would've liked nothing better than to let Tony rest and get some sleep, but he couldn't. Not until he knew everything there was to know.

"Tony, when you came to in that hallway," he started and Tony looked at him, confused. He barely remembered seeing Gibbs in the hall, talking to him. He'd totally forgotten the fact that McGee was there too and with the effects of the concussion, he'd had a feeling that the whole thing in the hallway was just imagined.

"You told me something strange."

"Huh? I'm sorry if I said something stupid," Tony started to apologize, already imagining what kind of stuff could he have babbled to Gibbs, but the man stopped him with an angry shake of his head.

"Damn it, DiNozzo, stop apologizing!" Gibbs snapped and Tony blinked.

"You're angry," he muttered and got an exasperated look in reply.

"Damn right, I'm angry, DiNozzo! I told you not to do anything stupid, and what you do? Try to get the guy by yourself!"

"We do it all the time, boss," Tony tried to defend himself.

"Yes, but not when you're out on sick leave, Tony! No wonder the guy got away. Hell, in the state you were in McGee could've dropped you without breaking a sweat."

Now it was Tony's turn to get angry. However crappy he felt, he still put up a fight. If it wasn't for that damned cough, he would've had him.

"That was low, boss," he hissed. "I know I messed up when I let him go and you can yell at me all you want because of _that_. But don't yell at me because I did my _job!_ Tell me one thing, Gibbs," Tony said, his voice was still low but his hands were clenching the blanket. "If it'd been _you_ in the same situation, would you have just waited there for backup and let him go?" Tony waited for the reply and after a long moment Gibbs gave him a slight grin.

"I didn't think so," Tony replied with a grin of his own and leaned tiredly into the pillows. "So, what did I tell you that _you_ think was strange?" he asked, returning to the topic as if nothing had happened.

"That you'd seen the man before. In the fire." Gibbs said and watched as Tony's eyes clouded and his whole body tensed.

"The fire?" Tony asked with a raspy voice. Finally he nodded. "Yeah," he whispered and tried to remember the night of the fire.

"Tony?" Gibbs asked, his voice filled with concern as he noticed the man's quickened breathing, but Tony just waved his hand that he was okay. Gibbs watched, unsure if he should just leave and let the man have his rest or if he should wait. He was Gibbs though, and he never left without getting the answer to his question.

"I knew there was something familiar about that guy," Tony finally mumbled and looked at Gibbs. "I woke up for a moment, when he pulled me out into the air. His face was covered with soot but I saw his eyes. The same eyes I saw today."

"Once you give us the portrait, we'll show it around to your neighbours and the firefighters who were there. Someone else must've seen him, too."

"Yeah. But I don't think he's our killer, boss," Tony added and grimaced when he saw the look on Gibbs' face. "You don't think so either, huh?"

"No. I think we can assume the killer was after the CD, but didn't know about the safe. The report from forensics said that there were signs of a fight. Some of the furniture was overturned, things were laying on the floor. Even if Casper was planning to paint and make new floorboards, he wouldn't make such a mess."

"So the killer was looking for the CD but couldn't find the safe. He threatened Casper and ended up smothering him. Then he saw all the flammable things around and thought, what the heck, let's make a barbecue; if there is a CD it will burn along with everything else, right?" Tony said, his voice raspy but full of indignation. "Why care about the whole building full of people that might die?"

Gibbs took a sip of his coffee and nodded.

"That may be right, DiNozzo, except for one thing. The killer planned the fire all along."

"What?"

"There were traces of an accelerant on and around Casper's body, probably gasoline. The plastic covering the furniture and all the other stuff around just helped to feed the fire. It was a miracle that the fire didn't spread out."

"Yeah, a miracle," Tony grumbled and shook his head. "So who the hell was the guy that attacked me today? How did he know about the safe? And why the hell did he pull me out of that fire in the first place?"

"I don't know, but we will find out, Tony. Once we catch the guy, we will find out what the hell's going on." With that, Gibbs finished the last of his coffee and stood.

"I have to go back to work. You get some rest and don't let me hear any complaints, is that clear?"

"Me, boss?" Tony looked at Gibbs, his eyes all wide and innocent and Gibbs couldn't help the grin.

"Leave the nurses be, Tony," he warned once again and turned to leave.

"If they'll let me sleep, I'll leave them alone, boss," he heard when he reached the door and only shook his head.

"Shut up and sleep, DiNozzo."

"On it, boss." Tony mumbled and closed his eyes. It wasn't so bad after all. He was still alive and he still had his job. All in all, he'd imagined this conversation a lot worse than it was.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Another chapter is here and I would like to thank everyone who found the time to review this story. Also big thanks goes to my beta **everybetty** for her great work.

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Chapter 8

Elyse Clayton clutched the greasy card to her chest and McGee saw her lips turn up in a smile. Frowning at the monitor, he shot a look towards the other car where Ziva was in the middle of the process that Tony had secretly named 'scaring the crap' out of the kid'. McGee would've liked nothing better than to watch the color drain from the pizza boy's face, but he knew that Ziva would handle it and that right now watching the camera could prove even more important than learning some new interrogation techniques. Still, McGee was a little surprised when Elyse suddenly moved, running up the stairs and momentarily vanishing from the camera's view. McGee cursed and listened to the earphones, but all he could hear were the muffled sounds of someone moving around the house. It was only few seconds though and Elyse came back on the monitor, in the middle of pulling on her jeans and a shirt. She paused before a mirror and combed her hair, then grabbed a light jacket and went into the garage.

"Gotcha!" McGee shouted and quickly opened the driver's door, waving at Ziva. She noticed and threw him a questioning glare, to which McGee simply pointed to Clayton's house with a raised eyebrow. Ziva understood. She exchanged a few more words with the pizza boy then stepped out of his car. As soon as the door closed, the boy started up the car and drove off much faster than the speed limit allowed. Grinning, Ziva flopped down on the driver's seat of their car and looked at McGee.

"There was a card in the pizza box. I think it's an address or some instructions," McGee started. As he was reaching for his seatbelt he saw the garage door open and the silver Ford slowly drive out. "But somehow I doubt it was a threat," he finished, grimacing as Ziva turned on the engine and drove off after the car.

"Since when are threats delivered with a pizza?" she snorted and McGee shot her a questioning look.

"Did you get something out of that kid?"

"Few years of his life, probably," Ziva muttered with a grin, thinking about how scared the kid was when she'd jumped into the car. Seeing the confusion on McGee's face though, she just shook her head.

"I showed him the photo Abby gave us. He positively identified the man as the one who ordered the pizza and gave him a five dollar bill to put in the card."

"Does he know his name?"

Ziva shook her head.

"He paid in cash and he wasn't a regular customer."

"So no trace, no evidence." McGee let out a frustrated sigh. "Did he read the card?" he asked suddenly, then let out a yelp as Ziva took that moment to swerve into the next lane, sending McGee scrambling for the laptop to clutch it safely in his arms.

"Sorry," Ziva uttered but her lips twitched in a smile and McGee frowned.

"He didn't read the card, all he saw were some numbers written on the bottom. Probably a phone number."

"If it's a phone number, why didn't she just call it from home?"

"Maybe because she's not as stupid as we'd like her to be. She must know we can check her phone records and the last thing she needs right now is giving us a lead."

"Well, maybe she's not so smart after all," McGee commented when the silver Ford slowed down and took the turn for a gas station. Ziva followed suit, staying far enough back not to be noticed. They watched as Elyse Clayton stepped out of her car and walked towards the payphone, looking around before pulling out a card.

"Give me the camera, quick," Ziva ordered and took the camera from McGee's hands just as Elyse Clayton made her call. She used the zoom and tried to read her lips, but the phone was hiding her face and Ziva gave up. They watched in silence, waiting until the call ended. Once Elyse put down the receiver and turned back to her car, Ziva opened the door on her side and looked at McGee.

"I'm going to check the booth, see the number, then I'll call it in to Abby. You follow her car, and, McGee? Make sure she doesn't notice you!"

McGee just rolled his eyes, and grumbled as he tried to get onto the driver's seat before Elyse's car vanished behind the corner. He managed just in time to see the back lights of the silver Ford, then he stepped on the gas pedal and left Ziva behind.

oOoOo

He knew she was on the edge even before he entered the lab. The screaming music was enough of a tip off; he didn't need to see her bouncing around the lab like an energy ball. Gibbs shook his head, grimacing as the music blared into his ears, and walked up behind the forensic.

"Abby?" he spoke but there was no reply as Abby's head jumped up and down with the rhythm, her fingers flying over the keyboard.

"Abs!" Gibbs shouted and touched her shoulder. Abby turned, startled, mouth already open to lash out at her visitor, until she saw who was it.

"Gibbs!" Abby squealed and gave him one of her fierce hugs for welcome. "I'm _so_ happy to see you! Do you believe Ducky told me not to visit Tony? How is he? Did you see him? Can I get the guy that beat him before you put him behind the bars? I swear I won't leave any evidence!"

Gibbs looked around the lab, taking notice of several empty cups of CaffPow that were part of the reason why Abby was so hyper. He let out a sigh and pointed to the computer, signing her to turn down the music.

"Just how many of these did you drink, Abs?" he asked, frowning at the still half full CaffPow that was on her desk. The music died down and Abby turned to him with an innocent look.

"Oh, dunno. Few. So, how's Tony?"

"He's _fine_," Gibbs said with a sigh and stepped closer to the computer, looking at the monitor. "Any news on the case?"

"Which one?" Abby huffed, then bumped Gibbs on the shoulder. "Don't change the topic, Mister. Why can't I go and see him?" she pouted and Gibbs turned to face her, laying his hands on her shoulders.

"No one is stopping you from seeing him, Abby. Right now he's either asleep or pestering the nurses. As much as he would enjoy your company, I need you here, working. Okay?"

He could see the gears in her head turning, all that nervous energy. It took a moment, but then she gave him a determined nod and smiled.

"I'll take your word on it, Agent Gibbs," she answered with a grin, then jumped and was back to her computer, pulling up files.

"Any news on the case?"

"Depends on which one you mean," she said, her pigtails flying around as she grabbed for the CaffPow but Gibbs was faster and threw the drink in the bin.

"Start with Clayton. And I really think you should lay off a little on these," he said, ignoring the annoyed yelp and the following scowl.

Abby made a huffing sound and gave up. She could always get another CaffPow as soon as Gibbs left.

"I have the number Clayton's wife called from the pay phone. It's a cell phone, one of those sim cards that aren't registered to anyone. The call lasted three minutes and twenty seconds. There were no other calls to or from that number and the cell is probably turned off."

"So you can't locate it?"

"Not until the guy turns it on. As soon as he does though and makes a call, we'll get him."

"Good. Anything else I should know about?"

"Nope, but I'm still trying to identify the kidnapper by that photo. It takes time though. Now," she turned away from the computer and walked to the table where Tony's gun was.

"No one shot this gun but I guess you know that. The blood on it belongs to Tony. All fingerprints are his, so I guess the man had gloves. But!" Abby slashed the air with her index finger, bouncing. "The safe! That was full of fingerprints, most of them belonging to Nathan Casper. But, there were also several prints belonging to someone else. I'm running them through the database as we speak."

Gibbs frowned, thinking.

"I see you're wondering why I found prints in the safe but not on Tony's gun," Abby quipped with that familiar glint in her eyes. Gibbs raised his eyebrows but nodded at her to elaborate.

"Go on then, tell me."

"Okay. So I was thinking about the whole case and I was wondering how the man knew Casper had a safe, while even the CSU's weren't able to find it. Not just that! He even knew what _kind_ of safe it was, because he opened it without making a scratch on it. No forced entry. So... what if the reason he knew about the safe was because he _put_ it there?"

Gibbs thought about it, giving Abby an appreciating nod.

"Not bad, Abs. But those prints might not belong to the same man who attacked Tony."

"No, but they belong to someone who knew about the safe. That automatically makes them a suspect."

Gibbs didn't argue with that.

"Don't drink any more of that stuff, okay?" he said before leaving the lab. Abby nodded, and waited whole five minutes to make sure he wasn't coming back, before heading out to the hall to buy some more CaffPow. After all, she had to stay awake and keep an eye open in case Clayton's kidnapper chose to turn on his cell phone.

oOoOo

He was sitting up, dead tired and pale but free of the IV and cannula and ready to go, just waiting for the doc to finish his release papers. Already dressed, Tony started swinging his legs, but stopped when the motion put him off balance, settling instead for playing with the bed controls. It was past ten in the morning and he was wondering if someone was going to come and give him a lift or if he'd need to call a cab. He was pretty sure Gibbs knew he was being released. Usually when one of the team went down, the nurses or the doctor got a clear warning to keep him apprised of any changes.

The door opened and Tony quickly put down the bed controls, trying to look innocent, until he noticed who'd entered. Crossing his arms on his chest, he frowned at the newcomer.

"And here comes the doctor," he let out in a drawl.

"I see you're still angry with me, Anthony," Ducky said with a smile and Tony grunted, then shook his head in resignation. It was hard to be angry with Ducky, especially if he was just trying to help.

"It would've been nice not to have a whole bunch of med students coming in for rounds, looking at my chest x-ray like it was some miracle I was even alive. I swear one of them looked eager to pull out a scalpel and do an autopsy right there," Tony said, horrified, and shivered at the memory.

Ducky didn't seem amused by the idea as he gave Tony a scrutinizing look.

"How are you feeling?" he asked in his best doctor voice and Tony rolled his eyes, rubbing his thighs impatiently.

"I'm _fine,_" he started but stopped at the look the M.E. gave him. Letting out a sigh, Tony gave a light shrug, deciding that being straight might get him out of there a little faster this time.

"Okay. I've a headache that rivals my worst hangover, which is saying something. I barely slept, because the nice nurses here woke me up every few hours just to get my name and probably my phone number too." At that Tony grinned cheekily and Ducky rolled his eyes. "All in all, I feel like crap but at least my breathing's better. That said," Tony jumped off the bed, stumbling a little but quickly steadying himself, "I'm ready to leave this place."

"I still think it would be wiser to keep you here at least another day, but given the fact that aside from fully sedating you there's no chance of it, you're free to go. But I must warn you, Anthony. You're on sick leave, which means not even paperwork. Rest is the best thing for you."

"Not arguing with you on that, Ducky," Tony smiled and headed for the door, maybe a little more slowly than usual but desperate to get some fresh air. They passed the nurses' station and Tony waved to a young brunette. She winked at him with a smile and Ducky cleared his throat, hiding a chuckle.

"Let me guess. She was the one who asked for your phone number," Ducky said as soon as they were far enough from the nurses and Tony's answer was a cute blush.

"Yes, I remember one time when I was just a med student myself and we were doing rounds at the psych ward. There was one really nice girl, a nurse, or at least that's what I thought at the time..." Ducky went on with the story and Tony tried to follow it, but found it hard to concentrate on the M.E.'s voice. Instead his mind was going back to the night of the fire. He now remembered the moment when he'd woken up on the ground, gasping for air. There was a shadow towering over him and Tony wanted to ask what happened, but his throat was so tight he couldn't get the words out. He remembered how the man leaned over, his face covered in soot, his lips moving, but Tony couldn't hear him speak and then everything went black. The next thing he saw was the piercing light...

"Are you all right, my boy?" Ducky's concerned voice cut through the haze and Tony blinked, realizing that he was standing in the daylight of the parking lot. The sun was shining and he had to scowl when the light brought stabs of pain through his head.

"Uh, sorry. Just... zoned out," Tony spoke and cleared his throat, then gave Ducky a smile he hoped was reassuring enough, but what came out more like a grimace.

"Anthony, if you're not feeling well, maybe we should go back inside-"

"No!" Tony jumped in and tried for another smile. "I'm fine, Ducky, really. I was just thinking about everything that happened yesterday and got kinda caught up in that. I'm fine and the only direction I'm going is to your car."

Ducky's look was full of doubt, but he finally nodded.

"You know, I wonder why I even try. You and Jethro are sometimes so alike that it scares me."

For a moment, something dark passed over Tony's face, but he shook it off before Ducky could call him on it.

"I will take it as a compliment, rather than a criticism," Tony replied with a cheeky grin.

_'As long as you don't get killed because of it, dear boy,'_ Ducky thought with a sigh, but didn't say anything. They reached the car and Tony ran his hand down the roof of the vintage Morgan with an appreciating look.

"You gotta love this car," he said as they settled inside, which brought on a whole new conversation as Ducky spoke about how hard it was to restore all the parts. Tony listened, but the steady sound of the doctor's voice along with the humming of the engine lulled him to sleep.

"Wake up, Anthony, we're here," came the voice and a hand shook his arm. Tony startled awake, eyes still half closed as he snapped: "Bush!"

He heard a chuckle and peeled his eyes open. Ducky was standing by the open car door, an amused grin on his face.

"He's the president," Tony added as explanation, then groaned when he realized what had just happened. "Sorry, but when you're asked it every hour on the hour..."

"Well, at least I know you know your presidents," Ducky couldn't help but jab and Tony rolled his eyes, then get out of the car, stretching carefully.

"This should be considered to fall under the doctor/patient privacy, you know," Tony warned but Ducky just smiled.

They were already inside Gibbs' house when Tony suddenly stopped and cursed, startling Ducky who was right behind him.

"What's wrong?"

"The portrait! I was supposed to go to the office and work with the sketch artist!" Tony grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck, willing the tension to go away.

"Ah, didn't I tell you?" Ducky spoke and Tony could detect a slight hint of satisfaction in his tone.

"Miss Logan, the portraitist, is off on some assignment; she will return later this afternoon. I'm sure Jethro will let you know if he needs you at the office. Now, why don't we see what's in that fridge of his?" With that Ducky left for the kitchen and Tony slumped down onto the couch with a resigned sigh. It seemed like the fates were conspired against him, wanting him to stay home.

Two hours later, when Ducky was long gone and Tony was settled on the couch, half sleeping while the laptop laying on the table played the latest Bond movie, someone knocked on the door. Tony groaned and, with still closed eyes, hoped that whoever it was would take the hint and leave, but the knocking came again, this time even more forcefully. Opening his eyes, Tony paused the movie and struggled to get up. It took a moment for him to regain his balance and he cursed as he bumped into the table.

"I'm coming!" he shouted when the knocking became louder and seemingly more desperate. "Who the hell it is, anyway?" he grumbled and without a second thought opened the door.

"What-" he started but froze. There he was. The man from the fire, the man that was in Casper's apartment, leaning against Gibbs' doorstep. There was blood on his jacket, but Tony didn't take notice of that. All he saw was the gun pointed at him, and all he could think of was that he didn't have a clue where his own gun was. He was unarmed and _oh so screwed._

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N**: _Hey, I'm really sorry for the late update, RL got in the way and then this chapter was a little harder to write. I hope you'll still like it though. I also wanted to thank for all those fantastic reviews you folk sent me and also big thanks to everybetty for her quick beta._

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Chapter 9

"Who the hell are you?" Tony asked, his voice slightly disbelieving as if he thought this was just a dream.

"Inside," the man nodded, pushing himself between the door and nudging the gun at Tony.

Tony's mind went through all the possible scenarios but he couldn't come up with anything that wouldn't end up with someone hurt or dead, and in both instances it would be him. He backed away, hands slightly raised. Only when the door closed with a thud did Tony notice the blood on the man's jacket and the slight tremble of the hand holding the gun.

"Don't do anything stupid. I might be a little off, but I can still shoot you," the man warned when he saw the scrutinizing look Tony was giving him.

"Right," Tony drawled out and for the moment acquiesced that he was caught. There was a moment of silence, then the man holding the gun sighed and pointed to the couch.

"Sit down."

"I think I'd rather stay standing," Tony said stubbornly.

"That wasn't a suggestion, Agent DiNozzo!" the man barked and Tony grit his teeth to stop himself from saying something hed regret. Glaring at the man, he slowly made his way to the couch and sat down.

"Thank you," the man said and pulling up a chair, he sat himself on the farther end of the room, putting enough space between him and Tony to make any sudden attempt to take his gun ineffective.

"Now that we're both sitting and you already know my name," Tony started, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "maybe you could tell me who the hell you are?"

"My name's Charlie Strate," he said with lightly raised eyebrows. "And I am a little surprised you don't already know that, Agent DiNozzo, seeing as your colleagues are looking through my house about now."

Tony froze, then grit his teeth in sudden anger. So that was why Gibbs hadn't needed him at the office this morning. They already knew who they were looking for. That second B in Gibbs' name really was for 'bastard', Tony thought grimly.

"So you're here because you want revenge? Or just leverage? You know NCIS doesn't negotiate-"

"With terrorists, yeah," Strate finished with a sigh and shook his head. "I am not here to 'kidnap' you, Agent DiNozzo. And I'm definitely not a terrorist."

Tony snorted at that, ignoring the scowl he received.

"Then what do you want, Strate?"

"Help," came the simple reply. "I want your help."

Tony blinked.

"Pardon me?"

"I don't like to repeat myself, Agent DiNozzo," Strate replied, his tone definitely not amused.

"Are you sure you have the right address?" Tony asked, not hearing the warning in his tone. "This isn't a hospital and so far as Gibbs won't find out about this little conversation we're having, this isn't a jail either. Or perhaps you were looking for some flammable material?" Tony went on, his voice rising equally with his anger. He knew he sounded slightly hysterical, but he couldn't help it.

There was a man sitting in Gibbs' chair, waving a gun in his face and talking about helping him? It was so absurd that for a moment Tony had an urge to just ignore him like a hallucination. The thumping headache only added to the surreal feeling of it all. Frowning at the pain, Tony's look automatically went for the pain pills on the table before him, only to stop at the cell phone laying there. Blinking, Tony quickly averted his gaze, a plan already forming in his head. "You know there's a whole wooden boat down in the basement, should burn just fine," Tony continued his tirade.

"That's enough!" Strate shouted and Tony fell silent. Now that he had a plan, it didn't do to spoil it just because of his temper. The tickle in his throat rose and this time he didn't even try to stop the coughing.

"Okay," Tony relented once the fit was over, looking up into Strate's eyes. "So what can a NCIS agent on sick leave help you with, Charlie Strate?"

Strate looked at him, assessing, then gave a slight nod.

"First, you should know I'm not the bad guy here."

"Not from where I'm sitting," Tony muttered but Strate ignored him, though his voice was a little more clipped when he continued.

"It may be hard to believe, Agent DiNozzo, but people can get into trouble even if they're on the good side. I'm a private investigator and trust me, none of this was in the plan."

"You're a P.I.?" Tony's voice rose in surprise and he frowned.

"Yeah. How the hell do you think I managed to find _you_?" Strate said and there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

"I wasn't exactly thinking about that," Tony admitted, still sounding disbelieving and maybe a little disappointed. He was after all a fan of Magnum P.I., and it kinda sucked being held at gun point by someone who he was supposed to admire.

Strate watched him, hissing out a curse when a sudden wave of pain tore through his body and Tony looked up, eyes narrowing.

"So what happened to you, PI Strate?" he asked, trying really hard to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. "Last time I saw you, you were in better shape. I might've given you a punch, but I don't remember shooting you." Tony's eyes went straight to the hole in the jacket and the blood seeping from the shoulder wound.

Strate let out a clipped laugh and shook his head.

"Nah, this was just an unlucky encounter with Casper's killer. He must've thought I'd be a good target."

"You mean you're not the one who killed him?" Tony asked in feigned disbelief and cleared his throat.

"I'm not a killer, DiNozzo!" Strate growled and Tony shook his head.

"Little hard to believe, seeing as you're pointing a gun at-" Tony's breath hitched in mid-sentence and he started coughing. This time though he didn't try to stop it, quite the opposite. Adding a little acting, his coughs sounded deep and much worse than they should be. Lurching from the couch, Tony clumsily reached for the glass of water that was sitting on the table, stumbling a little in his haste to get a drink. Strate stood up, the gun in his hand wavering uncertainly.

"Hey, sit down!" he shouted at Tony and the agent complied, but only after another stumble into the table, when he tried to put down the empty glass. Cursing between shallow breaths, Tony slid down to the couch, his left hand rubbing his sore chest while the other one used the distraction and slipped the cell phone into the cushions.

"Damn!" Tony grunted out when the coughing finally subsided. Despite the fact he was mostly acting this time, his chest really hurt now and he was left breathless. Still, the plan was accomplished and Tony's hand slid into the cushions as he leaned back against the couch, gasping for breath and completely spent.

He finally looked up at Strate and saw that the man was eyeing him with something between concern and suspicion. Closing his eyes for a moment, Tony blindly pushed some buttons and turned his cell phone mute. The hours he spent playing and trying to annoy McGee or Ziva by sending them false SMS notes, all the while looking as if he was doing anything but working on his phone, finally paid off. He didn't even need to look at the display to know what he was doing. Sending a short message to Gibbs under these circumstances might've been a bit harder, but not impossible.

"Hey, you okay?" Strate asked after a moment and Tony's eyes wearily opened, blinking against the light as if he was just waking up.

"Huh?" he mumbled, then shook his head to clear it. He felt a little proud of himself when he saw that the suspicion in Strate's eyes was completely overridden with concern. That meant Strate either bought his act or Tony looked worse than he thought.

"Sure," he said with raspy voice and bumped the send button. "No fear, I won't die on you before you can kill me," he added with a grimace.

Strate gritted his teeth, but didn't say anything.

"So, you were saying that Casper's killer shot you. Why should I believe you?" Tony asked quickly when he felt the phone in his hand vibrate. His thumb blindly hit the Take Call button and the vibrating stopped.

"I don't know, Agent DiNozzo," Strate reacted to the question, his voice speaking volumes about what he thought about Tony's intelligence. "How about the fact that I was shot? Or do you think I was just too clumsy cleaning my gun?"

Tony gave him a cocky grin. The trick with the phone had worked. Whoever was on the other end knew not to speak a word. Now all he had to do was keep Strate talking until backup arrived. Feeling the relief wash over him, Tony let himself relax. He carefully positioned the phone so that the person on the other side could hear the conversation, then put his hand up to rub the back of his neck.

"Look Strate, why don't you just start at the beginning? You know, I _have_ a concussion so it may take me a moment to put all the facts together. So... what were you and Casper doing? Who were you blackmailing?"

Strate looked as if he wanted to protest the accusation, but changed his mind. With a pained sigh, he shifted in the chair and started talking.

"Maybe you're right, DiNozzo. Whatever reasons, it was still blackmail. And Nathan paid the price." Strate shook his head. "I knew Casper from high school. He was a typical nerd. All into the technical stuff."

"I know the type," Tony mumbled with a smile, thinking about McGee. "So what were you? Jock?"

Strate grimaced at the term but then gave a light shrug.

"Maybe. It didn't matter though. We kinda got stuck on the same school project. After a while I found out that he wasn't as much of a nerd as I'd thought and we got along just fine. He helped me get through classes in school and I helped him survive school without having to look over his shoulder."

"Okay, that's high school. So you knew Casper for more than twenty years then."

"More like twenty five. I'm a little older than I look, agent DiNozzo," Strate said with a tired grin. "Anyway, I didn't get in touch with Nathan for almost twenty years. I was living in Seattle and we met at some bar when I moved back. It was crazy luck. I was on a case, following a chick whose husband thought she was cheating on him. I didn't even recognize him until I heard some woman call him by name."

"Sorry, but I still have a headache. Can we get to the point? What happened?" Tony asked impatiently. He knew that keeping Strate talking was his plan, but he also wanted to know what the hell was going on, preferably _before_ Gibbs and Co., burst through the door.

Strate's eyes narrowed and he sat up straighter, even though it pulled at his shoulder and made him grit his teeth to stop the moan. Tony still saw the pain in his face but suddenly he saw something else too. Strate had the same lost look Tony'd seen each time he looked in the mirror these past few weeks. They both wore scars that went deeper than the wounds on the surface.

"He was your friend," Tony muttered with understanding and Strate looked into his eyes.

"He wasn't just a friend, Agent DiNozzo," he spoke with low voice. "He was my responsibility. He hired me for a case and I was supposed to keep him alive. I failed."

"Why? What case?" Tony pushed, suddenly not so sure he made the right choice in calling Gibbs. He trusted the man with his life, but he felt there was something more going on. "What was on that CD you took from the safe?" he finally asked.

"Pictures."

"What kind of pictures?" Tony asked, even though he already had the idea. "Who was on those pictures?"

"Senator Leyland And before you ask, Agent DiNozzo," Strate said, his voice hardening and Tony saw the fingers of his free hand curl up into a fist, "they were all under-age. Just kids."

"God," Tony sighed. No wonder Casper was dead. He'd tried to catch a fish but hooked a shark instead. As for the senator... Tony had stopped wondering about that a long time ago. Working with NCIS taught him that a high position was hardly a reason to stop committing crime. Quite the opposite.

"How the hell did Casper get involved in this? As far as I know he had nothing to do with politics." By the files he'd read about Nathan Casper, the man was living in a shell. He was working from home for a company developing software. His wife had left him a few months after their daughter died of an overdose... Tony closed his eyes, fighting the urge to smack himself on the head.

"His daughter," he mumbled and Strate nodded in reply.

"Cassie was a little wild, I would give her that. Somehow she was drawn to all the bad people. First time she ran away I found her in a dirty apartment with her junkie friends. She was high and she was only thirteen. Nate put her into a program, but she ran away again. I brought her home more times than I care to remember. She was fifteen going on thirty when she was finally clean and back at school, or so we thought." Strate's eyes clouded up and as his voice become thicker, Tony knew what was coming next.

"Nate was the first one to notice that she was acting strange. He took her for a drug test but surprisingly, it came back clean. He still locked her up in her room and wouldn't let her out until she told him what was going on. So she told him about this cool guy she met at a party. How he introduced her to an even cooler guy. That she loved him and that she didn't need school, or her parents. That he would take care of her, because he had money and all because he was a candidate for a senator. Nate went mad. He locked up the house and went after Leyland Of course he didn't get even past his bodyguards. All he got was a beating. When he came to, he was lying in some alley and it was night. Cassie ran away. Twenty-four hours later, she was dead. Overdose."

"I'm sorry," Tony said sincerely.

"I was sorry, too," Strate nodded, his eyes falling on the gun he was holding. Tony followed his look and only then realized that he was wearing gloves. Not latex, but typical leather gloves. He frowned.

"What's with that gun?"

"Hm, that's the reason I came to you," Strate said and looked up. "You know, the first time I saw you in that fire I thought you were Nate. It was really hard to see in all that smoke. But when I pulled you out... I realized he was dead. Then I thought it was _you_ who'd killed him." Strate shook his head ruefully and Tony felt a shiver run down his back when he realised just how close he really came to dying that night. "I wanted to kill you. If it wasn't for the people running around, you'd be dead right now and I would've made the biggest mistake of my life."

"So, that's why you're here?" Tony asked, having a little trouble pushing the words out of his clenched throat. "You want to finish me off?"

Strate looked at him as if he'd just grown a second head, then let out a disgruntled laugh.

"God, I really did a number on your head, kid," he snorted and Tony blinked, confused but also offended.

"Hey!" he protested indignantly but then he ran the conversation through his head. "Oh, right. You know I might be a little feverish, so don't mind me," he added after a second and got an eye roll in reply.

"Go on then," he urged. "Who do I owe to stopping you killing me the second time we met?"

"Oh, just a punk who ran a background check on you. Once I realised you were the guy living next to Nate I knew it was a stupid assumption to make. For one, you were heading inside the apartment. I really doubt the killer would head back to the fire he started."

"Then why the hell did you try and run away?"

"Because my fingerprints were all over that safe? Because I had a CD that could ruin the career of a senator? Or maybe just because I didn't wanted to get arrested for murder. I know how the system works, Agent DiNozzo. Once I was taken into custody, that CD would vanish and I would spend the rest of my life behind bars for a murder I didn't do."

"Not if you let us handle this," Tony said with confidence that made Strate grin.

"But tell me, Agent DiNozzo. In what way does this fall under Navy NCIS jurisdiction? What do you think, how long would it take for some Feds to show up and take me away?"

Tony couldn't reply to that. Truth was, Strate was right. Even if they arrested him, NCIS had nothing on the case. Sure, they could keep him for the attack on Tony himself, but if another agency was going to get involved, it would be easy for Strate to get lost in the machinery. And private investigators weren't any more loved in jail than cops. Accidents happened.

"Yet you're here," Tony said, momentarily puzzled. "How did you get shot?" he asked, suddenly realizing what was eating at his subconscious the whole time. "And whose gun is that?"

Strate stood up, grimacing at the pain. He swayed a little, but righted himself as he walked up to the table. Slowly, he put the gun on the table and took a step back.

"I'm sure you'll be able to find some useful fingerprints on it. Maybe even DNA. It was kind of a fair exchange. He left me his gun and I left him my knife. Got him in the right calf, so maybe you should check the hospital records."

Tony looked at him, dumbfounded.

"That's it?"

"What else do you want, Agent DiNozzo?"

"Oh, I don't know. What about a description of the man that shot you? Some explanation why you risked bringing it to me? Or what the hell happened to that CD?" Tony stood up too, knowing their time had just run out. Strate was about to leave and if Tony hadn't sent that message to his favourite pizzeria instead of Gibbs, then there were some people waiting just outside the door, ready to burst in.

"I think I gave you more than enough, Agent DiNozzo," Strate said wearily, the hand free of the gun now clutching the wounded shoulder. "As for why I came after you... I don't know. Guess I thought, third time's a charm. There had to be some reason why we kept bumping into each other. Maybe you could help me."

Hearing those words, Tony flinched.

"Where's that CD, Charlie?" he asked in low voice but there was no reply and Tony saw the man's eyes flicker to the couch. Tony cursed under his breath as he saw that the cell phone was now visible. He turned back to Strate, mouth open to explain, only to yelp as the fist hit his cheek and sent him sprawling back on the couch.

"You bastard!" Strate shouted but it was all lost in several more voices shouting. Tony blinked, the hot pain in his jaw clearing away the fog.

"I know I said to feel at home, but I think bringing friends over is a little much, DiNozzo." Gibbs' face swam into view and Tony squinted, trying to make out if it was a grin on his boss' face or a scowl.

"You okay, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, cupping his face and inspecting the damage.

"Ouch!" Tony protested and without warning the world went dark once again.

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** _Once again big thanks to all who reviewed and to my beta everybetty. Sorry for a late update, but as the story is coming to the end it's harder and harder to write. Nevertheless, I hope you'll enjoy this new chapter._

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Chapter 10

The day had started better than Gibbs would've thought it could, he mused as he poured himself his 'morning' coffee, his hair still wet from the shower. He'd spent the night on the stakeout and gotten only three hours of sleep before he'd had to relieve McGee at two a.m. When he'd reached the car, he'd seen the agent reclining, head resting against the window. He knew there was always a risk of falling asleep on stakeout, especially if the person was alone. That was why Gibbs preferred sending two agents on the job, so they could keep a watch on each other. Right now though, they were spread too thin, what with missing DiNozzo and the additional investigation in Casper's case. At least he'd known that come morning, there'd be two more agents helping them out with the stakeout, leaving his team to do some investigative work.

Still, falling asleep at work wasn't a smart thing to do and McGee had learned it fast enough when the door on his side suddenly opened. He'd yelped, grabbing the wheel to keep himself from falling out when the window supporting his head had vanished. McGee had recovered quickly, though he'd been too slow to escape the resounding head slap and the glare.

"I wasn't asleep," he'd rushed out but one look at Gibbs had told him it won't help. "Sorry, boss," McGee'd mumbled sheepishly, then cleared his throat. "Everything's calm. Elyse Clayton went straight home and to bed. There were no more phone calls."

"Are you sure she's still in the house, McGee?" Gibbs had asked with a scowl andMcGee quickly handed him his earphones.

"Uh, yeah, boss. Here, if you listen you'll hear her snoring," he'd added with a light smile. Gibbs gave him a look that clearly said he wasn't in the mood and McGee nodded.

"Right. Abby's sleeping at the lab, but she set the computer so the alarm would go off if the cell phone is activated."

"Good," Gibbs nodded, appreciating the fact that Abby'd had the sense not to stay awake all night if she didn't have to. He had a feeling they would need everyone rested for the next day. He'd sent McGee home and tried to make himself comfortable in the car, waiting for the morning.

Elyse Clayton was still asleep when Gibbs left the surveillance to the hands of an agent from another NCIS team. He headed home and went straight to the shower, while setting his coffeemaker for a rather strong batch of the brown liquid. He was just sipping from the steaming cup when his cell phone started ringing. Letting out a sigh, he put the cup down and reached for his cell. Looking at the caller ID, he smiled.

"What's up, Abs?" he asked, wincing when the voice from the other end came out loudly.

"I've got a match!" Abby shrieked and Gibbs caught a slightly distraught tone. "for thefingerprints from the safe," she added as an afterthought.

"That's good. Who is it?"

"You won't believe it, Gibbs! Oh my gosh, Tony will be sooo pissed when he finds out. Even I can't believe it-" she rattled off and Gibbs reached for his coffee.

"Abby!" he shouted into the phone to stop her rambling and that got her attention.

"Jeesh, no need to shout, boss man. Do you want me to go deaf or something?"

Gibbs rolled his eyes and let out a sigh.

"The fingerprints, Abs." he reminded her patiently. "Who do they belong to?"

"But that's what I've been talking about the whole time, Gibbs," she said in a tone that clearly said she was now rolling her eyes in a 'well, duh' manner.

"The name, Abby!" Gibbs growled, not having the patience.

"Okay, you don't have to shout," Abby said in a huff, but then her voice perked up. "The name's Charlie Strate. It took me a little longer to get his name from the database. His fingerprints were taken only once and it was in a sealed off record because he was a juvie. No biggie. He tried to steal a car when he was sixteen. But you won't believe what he is now!"

"Abs, I'm really not in the mood for twenty questions," Gibbs grumbled into the phone.

"As if I couldn't tell," Abby snorted in reply. "He's a private investigator, Gibbs," Abby finally said and her voice was a mix of anger and disbelief. "Aren't they supposed to be the good guys? Shouldn't they be on our side?" she asked finally and Gibbs rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"You know there're always some bad apples, Abs," he said gently, then returned to his business tone. "Do you have his address?"

"Just a second... yes, here it is." Abby rattled off the address and Gibbs reached for his car keys.

"Anything else on the Clayton case?"

"Nope. Did you see Tony today?"

"It's a little early for that, Abs," Gibbs said with a sigh and gulped down the rest of his coffee before leaving the house. "I'm sure he's okay. In fact, Ducky should be picking him up from the hospital later today."

"That's cool," Abby perked up. "I'll stop by with pizza for dinner," she suggested and the phone went silent before Gibbs could utter a word of protest. Grinning, he shook his head and dialled Ziva's number, telling her Strate' s address and to inform McGee while he started up his car and headed out.

An hour later, Gibbs was standing in the middle of a living room, in an apartment belonging to Charles Strate, the private investigator, and cursed his luck. The whole apartment was a mess. The furniture was upside down; clothes, papers and other personal belongings were strewn across the floor. The TV was broken, the screen kicked out and Gibbs didn't even need to be a technical person to know that what was left of the computer wasn't going to work, ever again. Even McGee shook his head at the mess it was.

"The hard drive's missing, the rest is totalled. No way to pull out any info, boss."

Gibbs had just nodded, a deep frown on his face.

The apartment had been thoroughly searched and there was no way to tell if anyone doing this had found what they were looking for.

"Time to call Detective Richards," he muttered and dialled the number. It was only a matter of time before Richards would find the match for the fingerprints taken from the safe. If not for Abby's skills, they might've still been looking for it. Letting the detective know was one way of keeping him on their good side and it also came with the benefits. Gibbs and his team had already looked through the apartment and hadn't found anything useful, but they didn't have the time or the people, while Richards had a whole team at his disposal just for this case.

As soon as the forensic team appeared with Detective Richards, Gibbs, Ziva and McGee returned to the office. It was two hours later when Gibbs' phone rang, letting him know he'd gotten a message. Frowning at the display, he saw it was from DiNozzo.

"What now, Tony?" he asked silently and opened the message. He read it twice before he turned to McGee's desk and barked at him.

"What the hell is this supposed to mean?"

"Huh, Boss?" McGee stopped writing and turned a puzzled look at Gibbs, who just slammed his cell on McGee's desk. Seeing the glare, McGee quickly picked up the phone and read the message.

_'Trovle, bosr. C2l m3 b2ck do6t tal5.To6y.'_

"Oh." McGee frowned at the text, then his eyes slid back to the cell phone's keypad. "Oh!" he said for the second time but now there was a grin on his face.

"What?!" Gibbs barked and the grin vanished.

"Uh, I think Tony wrote this in a big hurry or he wasn't really looking at the keypad. You know how you have to push the number 2 three times when you want to write a C in the message? Well, if you also want to write an A after that, you have to push it four times, but with a slight pause. If you do it too fast, you'll get a 2 instead."

"So what does that message say, exactly?"

"Hm, let's see," McGee studied the message, then raised his head with a puzzled look. "It says: Trouble, boss. Call me back don't talk. Tony."

Cursing, Gibbs grabbed his phone and dialled Tony's number. It was picked up on the second ring, but Gibbs didn't speak. He covered the microphone with his hand and pushed the phone to his ear. At first the sounds were muffled and all he could make out was Tony's voice, but soon he heard another man speaking. Eyes getting wider, Gibbs put the phone to his other ear and grabbed for a pen and paper, scribbling something to McGee. The probie read it, mouth slightly agape, before rushing out of the bullpen and into Abby's lab. Gibbs headed for the elevator and straight to the parking lot. Halfway to his car he spotted Ziva running toward him. He made a hushing gesture and she just nodded; obviously McGee had already let her know.

They made it to the car in silence. Gibbs listened to the cell phone, gritting his teeth and waiting for McGee. Finally, the probie was there, handing him a small earpiece. Gibbs put it into his ear and McGee took the cell phone, closing it.

"Okay, we can talk now. Abby re-routed the call to the computer and she's sending it out through the mic in your ear, boss. No way Tony or whoever else is there could hear the cell phone. She also checked the signal... Tony's calling from your house."

"Good job," was all Gibbs said before turning on the engine. Both McGee and Ziva grabbed for the seatbelts as the car sped out of the garage and onto the streets.

"We were looking in the wrong place. Strate is with Tony. He's injured but also armed. DiNozzo's gun is in Abby's lab," Gibbs said with a grunt and tried to listen to what was going on in his house, all the while driving madly through the thickening traffic. Ziva glanced into the mirror and exchanged a wide-eyed look with McGee, whose lips were moving, probably in a silent prayer. By the time Gibbs stopped the car half a block from his house, their knuckles were white from gripping the hand rest and McGee's face had a distinctly greenish tone.

"Thank God," McGee whispered and Ziva only nodded with a grin as they made their way to Gibbs' house.

"Ziva, take the front. Don't approach until you get a signal. McGee, you're at the back with me," Gibbs ordered and Ziva nodded, pulling out her gun and using her stealth mode to get to the front door unnoticed, while Gibbs and McGee entered the house through the back. They stopped in the hall and finally, even McGee could hear what was going on. Listening, they waited for the right moment. When Strate put the gun on the table, Gibbs gave McGee a short nod and a signal to get ready. He heard the sudden pause and then Tony's voice, trying to explain. He wasn't waiting for more and along with McGee entered the living room just in time to see Strate giving Tony a right hook.

"NCIS! Don't move!" Gibbs shouted just as the front door was kicked open and Ziva rushed in. She took in Tony's still form on the couch and Strate's hand curled in a fist and with two smooth moves she crossed the distance and knocked Strate onto the ground. He screamed when she pulled his arms behind him to secure them and suddenly went limp.

Gibbs shook his head, putting his gun into the holster and giving Ziva an pointed look.

"He was shot, David. You might go a little gentle with him."

"Right. Like he cared if DiNozzo was sick or not," she replied and turned the now handcuffed PI over.

"Ouch, that must hurt," McGee commented when he saw the red staining the man's shoulder. Ziva only shrugged.

"How's Tony?" she asked but Gibbs was already leaning over the agent, checking his pulse.

"Alive."

As if hearing his name, Tony let out a groan and blinked.

"I know I said to feel like home, but I think having friends over is a little too much," Gibbs joked, happy to see the agent awake. Tony blinked some more and his face turned into a frown, as if he had trouble focusing.

"Are you okay, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, with his own frown and cupped his face to check the growing bruise on Tony's cheek. He would be lucky if it wasn't broken, Gibbs thought.

Tony recoiled at the touch and muttered, "Ouch" before slipping back into unconsciousness.

"DiNozzo? Hey, wake up!" Gibbs shook his shoulder but all he got in reply were several grunts.

"Damn it. Just what we need," he sighed and took a look around the room. His eyes stopped on the gun that was still lying on the table.

"McGee, bag and tag it," he ordered, then turned to Ziva and her prisoner that just started moaning, a clear sign he was coming around.

Kneeling down next to him, Gibbs inspected the shoulder wound. It looked like a through and through. Painful sure, and in need of some treatment, but not serious.

"Okay, let's get him to the chair," he said and, with Ziva's help, hauled the man to a sitting position, although it was hardly comfortable.

"McGee?" Gibbs called out, his eyes not leaving Strate's still form.

"Yes, boss?"

"You have my phone, so call Ducky. Tell him to bring some stuff, and that he's got a willing test subject for his doctoring. Then go back to the lab and give Abby the gun and check local hospitals for anyone with a stab wound to the leg. What are you waiting for?" he barked when McGee didn't move.

"Uh, we got here in your car, boss. If I take it, you'll be stuck here," McGee explained sheepishly. Gibbs reached into his pocket and threw him his keys.

"So take the damn car then! We're not going anywhere until Ducky comes."

"Right," McGee nodded, looking a little confused. "Shouldn't we call Detective Richards?" he added and the glare he got this time practically burned. Clearing his throat, McGee back-pedalled to the door. "Sorry, boss. No more suggestions. I'm leaving now."

Gibbs just stared at him until the door closed, then allowed a slight grin to escape. After all these years, he finally got it.

oOoOo

The thought of opening his eyes was far less appealing to Tony than just going back to sleep or wherever he was this time. The headache was back with a vengeance and his cheek felt as if someone was digging red hot needles into it. He could already feel the swelling and almost grimaced at the thought of how that must look, combined with the vivid bruises he already had on his neck. But that wasn't the only reason he didn't feel like announcing to the world he was awake. As he replayed the memories of the last few moments it hit him, how badly he'd screwed up... again. He never should've turned his back on Strate.

When he also remembered the short 'conversation' with Gibbs and the passing out that followed, Tony couldn't stop the groan that escaped.

"I think he's coming to," announced a way too cheery voice and Tony yelped as something cold landed on his cheek.

He grabbed the icy object and glared at Ziva, who was grinning down at him. Or at least tried to glare. She was still a little out of focus, never mind the fact that it hurt.

"Not funny," he mumbled and grimaced when Ziva took the thing from his hand and put it back on his face.

"It's an ice pack. Now stop being a baby and keep it there."

Tony gruffed but didn't protest. The cold was already starting to numb his cheek. He realized that Gibbs was near; he could hear his voice talking quietly to someone else. Turning his head, Tony blinked in surprise.

"Oh, you got him," he uttered in a slightly disbelieving tone. He had a hazy recollection of hearing some shouting after Strate knocked him out, but his time perception was a little off and he was sure that Strate was long gone. Now that he saw Strate slumped in a chair, grimacing in pain as he started coming to himself, Tony took a deep breath and tried to sit up.

"Boss?" he asked, grunting at the effort it took him.

"Stay down, DiNozzo," Gibbs ordered but Tony didn't listen. No way in hell was he gonna stay flat on his back because of a bruised cheek, when Strate was sitting up with a bullet wound. He felt Gibbs' glare, but ignored it and instead focused on staying upright.

"I'm fine, boss," he said after a moment, satisfied that the room had stopped spinning. "What happened?" he added, turning to Ziva for explanation.

"In short? Strate kicked your ass and then I kicked his," Ziva replied a little proudly.

"Oh, I knew you cared, Zeevaah," Tony drawled with a smile and coughed as Ziva slapped his arm, looking a little disappointed that she couldn't go for a good head smack.

"Careful, I'm injured," he mumbled when his coughing stopped and Ziva rolled her eyes in reply.

"You're such a child," she said and walked over to Gibbs and their prisoner. Tony watched them, trying to come up with one good reason why they were still here, but couldn't find it.

"Boss?" he asked and Gibbs looked at him.

"What?"

"Uhm, not that I'm complaining, but... what is he still doing here?"

"A damn good question," came a raspy reply from Strate himself and all three of them looked at him. He was looking at Tony, his eyes full of pain and anger at being caught. "I should've known better than believe a cop," he gasped out through gritted teeth.

Tony winced at the words, but didn't say anything.

"Funny _you're_ saying that," Ziva replied with contempt. Strate only glanced at her, then decided to ignore the two junior agents and focus on Gibbs instead.

Their eyes locked and for a moment it looked as if they were staring each other down. If so, then Gibbs was the winner, because Strate was the first to look away.

"I heard everything," Gibbs said and Strate gave him a nod.

"I figured. So, care to tell me why I'm not dead already?"

Something flashed in Gibbs' eyes, something dangerous. "You still might be, Strate," he said, his tone dead serious.

"I'll never tell you where that CD is!" Strate growled but Gibbs didn't as much as twitch.

"I don't really care."

"What?" Strate frowned, confused.

"I don't need that CD. I just need the man who shot you. I don't want to ruin Senator Leyland's career, Strate. I want him in jail." Gibbs explained. "And you're gonna help me."

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: As always, thanks to everyone who reviewed and to all who are still reading this. Sorry for the delay in update, I simply couldn't write while I didn't know how the season finale finishes. Also big thanks to everybetty, who betaed this chapter extra fast. Hope you'll enjoy it and let me know._

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**Chapter 11**

"_I don't need that CD. I just need the man who shot you. I don't want to ruin Senator Leyland's career, Strate. I want him in jail,." Gibbs explained. "And you will help me."_

For a moment Strate looked as if he was about to laugh, but the serious tone and maybe some sixth sense warned him not to.

"How? How the hell am I supposed to help you now?" he growled instead, his head nodding at the ties binding him and at his wounded shoulder. "Or are you just going to let me go?" he then asked with a raised eyebrow.

Gibbs shook his head, a little grin brightening his face.

"No. Quite the opposite, actually," he said and, hearing a sudden noise coming from outside, Gibbs looked at the door, his hand reaching for his gun. All heads in the room followed his motion; Ziva headed for the window and carefully looked out.

"It's just Ducky," she said after a second and opened the door to the M.E., seeing as both of his hands were occupied, one holding a medical bag, the other fumbling with a cell phone, trying to put it into his coat.

"Ach, Agent David. Thank you. For a moment I was thinking about giving you a call, in case someone started shhoting at me." Ducky spoke with a smile as he entered the house, but his smile slipped as soon as he saw the people inside. "Oh my, what happened here?!" he exclaimed, his eyes going to DiNozzo, taking in the cold pack on his face that only partially managed to cover the growing bruise.

Tony squirmed under the look, trying to give the physician a lop-sided grin, but only succeeding with a wince. Deciding that moving his arm shouldn't be too painful, he waved Ducky off with an 'I'm okay, go check on him' sign.

Ducky gruffed, but didn't say anything, until he turned and saw the man tied to the chair. He noticed that there was a bandage on his shoulder, but it had hardly done much to stop the bleeding, seeing as it was already stained with red.

"Dear Lord, Jethro, what are you doing?" he said, head shaking and tone a mix of exasperation and caution.

"Just interrogating a suspect, Duck." Gibbs shrugged non-committally, earning a glare from both the M.E., and Strate. Ducky's eyebrows rose, and he gave a snort.

"I can see that. Any reason why you're probably infringing the Geneva Convention?" he asked and, putting down his medical bag, walked over to Strate, gently lifting the bandage from his shoulder.

"Does it have anything to do with the new colour on young Anthony's face?" he added, shooting a concerned look toward DiNozzo. Tony flinched and opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it when he saw the angry look on Gibbs' face.

"Maybe more with the fact that it's the second time he's threatened one of my agents. Or maybe it has something to do with him keeping DiNozzo at gun point in _my house_," Gibbs growled.

Ducky grimaced, giving Strate a disapproving look. "That wasn't the wisest thing to do, young man," he said.

"Yeah, as if I didn't realize it already," Strate hissed through clenched teeth, his body taut with the new pain that was awakened by the probing fingers.

Ducky tsked, then with a light pat on the man's good shoulder, turned to Gibbs with a questioning look.

"I think it's time you told me some of your plans, Jethro," he said calmly and Gibbs nodded towards the kitchen.

"Why don't we get something to drink then?"

"Gladly. But why don't you first untie the poor lad? I think your plan was to ask him questions, not torture him."

Gibbs glared at Strate, then with a slight nod, reached for his knife and swiftly cut one of the ropes, the one that was tying Strate's injured arm to the chair. Strate instantly pulled the arm to his chest, face a taut grimace of pain as the movement jarred the wound.

"There. His arm's free; no need to glare at me, Duck." Saying that, Gibbs leaned over Strate and waited until the man's eyes focused on his.

"One bad move and I don't care if you're on our side or not. Is that clear?"

"Crystal clear," Strate said in a clipped voice and Gibbs nodded, looking at Ziva.

"You have permission to shoot him, David." He then turned to meet Strate's eyes with a calm, cool, pointed gaze. "I suggest you don't give her an excuse to do so."

Ziva grinned and took Gibbs' place. Tony watched with a growing frown as the two men vanished into the kitchen. He wanted to hear what was going on, but didn't want to leave Ziva and Strate alone. They needed some supervision though not because he would be afraid of Ziva getting hurt, quite the opposite. Seeing the dangerous look in her eyes, Tony thought Strate was more likely the one in need of protection.

Strate for his part had enough brains not to try and engage them in any conversation. Either that or he just didn't have the energy for it. Closing his eyes, the man chose to use the moment for rest.

Tony could only sympathize with him. The throbbing in his head hadn't gone away and if he hadn't been afraid of being sent back to the hospital, or showing weakness, he would've just lay back on the couch and tried to get some sleep. No rest for the wicked though; it looked like Gibbs had a plan and it obviously involved more than just putting Strate behind bars. Not for the first time, Tony thought how cool it would be to have super powers, like being able to hear what was going on in the kitchen...

oOoOo

It was the second time that day that Ducky opened the door on the fridge and pulled out a can of soda. Gibbs was leaning against the table, sitting so that he could still partially see their prisoner. He accepted the soda; he'd rather have had a beer, but the rule was clear. No alcohol while working. And this was work.

"So, care to explain to me why you called me instead of an ambulance, Jethro?" Ducky asked, arms crossed on his chest and eyes set on Gibbs' face.

"I need to keep it under wraps, Duck. If anyone outside the team learns we have this man, or what he told us, it would mean signing the guy's death certificate. Trust me on this. The safest thing for Charlie Strate is if no one knows he's alive or that he's still in town."

Ducky listened with a frown. "So this is the man who attacked Anthony? Yet you seem to imply that _he's_ the one in danger."

Gibbs gave a short grin that didn't reach his eyes and told Ducky about what they'd learned in the last half hour. By the time Gibbs finished, the frown on Ducky's face had greatly deepened.

"This goes too high, Jethro. If you don't handle this carefully," he warned and Gibbs gave him a nod.

"I know what the risks are, Duck. And trust me, I'm doing what I think is best."

"Don't you always?" the M.E. asked with a light smile and then sighed. "I believe it's time to return to the living room. I need to take care of that shoulder wound and I would like to take a look at Anthony, too." Ducky's voice turned sour and Gibbs' raised his eyebrows when the M.E. stopped walking and turned back to Gibbs with a sigh.

"I shouldn't have left him there. I _had_ this strange feeling that it was a bad idea, but…" He shook his head.

"Hey, DiNozzo's okay," Gibbs said quickly, "and we got Strate. Nothing you could've done about it, Duck."

"I should've seen that someone was following my car from the hospital. Should've paid more attention. How else do you think that man found Anthony?" Ducky bit his lip, then shook his head. "Never mind," he said with a sigh and gave a small smile. "No time for guilt trips. We shall go back to work, before Agent David gets a chance to finish off your 'guest'." This time there was a twinkle in his eyes.

When Gibbs entered the room, Ziva was leaning dangerously close to Strate, whose face was a mask of indignation, pain, and maybe just a little amusement. Tony was sitting on the edge of the couch, looking ready to jump, and he visibly sagged in relief when he saw Gibbs and Ducky coming back. Ziva just smiled at Strate with one of her typical 'I am Mossad, don't play with me' smiles and looked up at Gibbs.

"I see everyone is still alive," Gibbs commented and decided to ignore Strate's snort or the way Ducky cleared his throat. Instead he nodded at Ziva to help Ducky, while he headed to the couch and its sole occupant.

"Boss," Tony was the first to speak as Ducky started treating Strate's wound. The ice pack was now a soggy, dripping mess on the table. Tony looked strangely nervous, as if he was waiting for a reprimand, but Gibb's didn't know why. There was also some anger hiding behind his eyes and Gibbs had the feeling, at least _there_, he knew what was going on.

"Good job with the phone, DiNozzo," he started and almost cringed when Tony looked up at him; the bruised cheek combined with the fingerprints on his neck made him look like an abuse victim.

"Thanks Boss," Tony said, his voice once again hoarse and tired. He cleared his throat and took a sip from the glass of water, but didn't look back at Gibbs, watching his hands instead. "So..." he started, "did you find anything while you were searching Strate's house? Or did my call interrupt you?" he asked, with a bit of sarcasm and hurt in his voice.

Gibbs was silent for a moment, just watching Tony, waiting until the man looked up and met his eyes.

"You're off duty, DiNozzo. That means no involvement with the case. I didn't call you, because I didn't want to see your ass in the office when u can barely walk a straight line. If you aren't even up for paperwork, you're better off home."

At that Tony snorted and would've shaken his head had he not remembered it wasn't a good idea. So instead he settled for a reproachful glare that he managed to pull off _really_ well, despite the fact he had trouble focusing it on one point.

"Yeah, because that seems to be working so well for me these days," he said, then continued in a lower voice. "That the reason why you made Ducky lie to me?"

Gibbs blinked, clearly confused. "What are you talking about, DiNozzo?" he asked, his voice gruff and Tony looked momentarily puzzled.

"When he picked me up, I wanted to go to the office, but he said the sketcher wasn't there. Of course, by that time you didn't really need me, but why the hell did you made Ducky lie about it?" Tony hissed, not really wanting the M.E. to hear him.

Gibbs looked at him in silence, the look on his face unreadable, and Tony was starting to think he wasn't going to get a reply, when Gibbs' hand suddenly smacked him on the shoulder. Tony yelped, then blushed as all the faces turned to him.

"What the hell was that for?" he asked, an unwanted whine slipping in. He growled when he heard Ziva snicker and Ducky clear his throat. Even Strate seemed to be amused, though his face was still milky pale.

"For being an idiot," Gibbs growled back. He wanted to smack Tony on the head; hell, he'd been aiming for it but the last second he thought better of it. Last thing DiNozzo needed was any more dead brain cells and adding to that concussion definitely wouldn't help. And Gibbs could hardly pull it off with the M.E. watching them like hawk.

"Ducky didn't know about Strate until now. I didn't speak to him after Abby found the match," Gibbs explained and Tony found himself blushing once again. Once again he felt like an idiot and he was getting tired of it. At least now he could blame it on the concussion or maybe the meds he was taking. No wonder though that Gibbs didn't want him involved in the case. How could he trust him when Tony had a hard time trusting himself?

Seeing all the emotions rushing behind Tony's eyes, Gibbs inwardly cringed. The last thing he needed was Tony doubting himself, yet he was watching it happen, from that damned fire that started this whole thing. No, that wasn't really true, Gibbs thought grimly. He'd seen that doubt from the moment he'd returned from Mexico and it had just kept on growing as the crap piled on. Paula's death, the undercover mission literally blowing up in Tony's face, and the fallout with Jeanne… hell, maybe it'd even gone back to his near death bout with the plague... and losing Kate. All Gibbs knew for sure was that he needed to stop it, before Tony made a mistake that could cost someone's life, or before he decided that maybe seven years at NCIS was more than enough and he should leave.

"Stop sulking, DiNozzo," he growled and Tony looked up at him, startled by the angry tone.

"I wasn't sulking, boss," he defended himself and that earned him a grin from Gibbs, which made him even more confused.

"Good." He nodded and stood up. "Duck? How's it going?"

"Almost finished," Ducky said as he was setting Strate's arm in a makeshift sling.

"Care to tell me... what the plan is, Agent Gibbs?" Strate asked, hissing when the M.E., moved his arm.

"The plan is for you to sit it out, Detective," Gibbs said, using the title more like an insult.

"Well, I can do that if you let me go," Strate quipped, but his voice held no real hope. "Or you can just kill me right now," he added when he saw Gibbs heading over to him, reaching for his knife. He cringed when the blade stopped mere inches from his face but instead of continuing, it cut through the rest of the ties and vanished back in its pouch.

"What car did you bring, Duck?" Gibbs asked, already knowing the answer, but enjoying the look of surprise on Strate's face when Ducky said: "Why, the coroner's van, of course. With you I never know when I'll need it," Ducky added with a grin and both Ziva and Tony smiled. Only Gibbs' face remained impassive, as he leaned over Strate's chair.

"That's good. In that case, it won't be a problem to get detective Strate here into the morgue without his name coming up."

"What do you mean?" Strate blinked, and Gibbs let him sweat it out before replying.

"I don't want anyone know you're alive, Strate. When I said you'll sit this out, I meant it. Don't worry, I'm sure the chair in the interrogation room is comfortable enough. Okay, people, let's get to work. Ziva, go start the car, you're driving. DiNozzo, you're in the front with her. The rest of us will ride in the back," Gibbs said and ignored the complaining sounds coming from his two agents.

"Why can't Ducky drive?" Tony moaned, getting up from the couch. He'd almost said that he'd rather stay home than sit in a car with Ziva behind the wheel, but changed his mind. If Gibbs wanted him in the office, then he would come.

Ziva heard his complaint and bumped him in the shoulder, which resulted in a slick grin appearing on Tony's face.

"On the other hand, I know where I'm gonna aim if I get sick," he said with a grin.

"You won't dare," Ziva warned him.

"Oh, sure I will, Zeevaah," Tony assured her with a goofy smile. Ziva swallowed hard, taking in the pale face and the somewhat dizzy look on his face and decided that this time she'd try to drive a bit slower. Well, as slow as she was capable of, she thought when she saw a brief satisfied grin on Tony's face.

oOoOo

"It wasn't my fault," Ziva said for the third time in the last two minutes and this time Tony didn't even glare at her.

"Really. It's probably all the blows to the head. Dizziness is a sign of concussion. You know you should let Ducky look at you," she continued and Tony looked at her blearily, one hand still clutching his upset stomach.

"I wasn't dizzy until you started switching lanes like a crazy woman," Tony growled and opened the car's door, slipping out with as much grace as he could muster.

"I said I was sorry," Ziva called after Tony as she too made it out of the car.

The back door of the van opened and Ducky stepped out, looking a little shaken himself. He took one look at Tony and gave him an understanding nod. Strate looked as white as sheet, but Tony couldn't tell if it was from the blood loss or Ziva's driving. The only one unaffected by it was obviously Gibbs, though he threw a concerned glance at Tony.

"You okay, DiNozzo?"

"Right as rain, boss," he mumbled, grimacing at the sour taste in his mouth. "Next time you want to punish me, just shoot me, though," he added in a low voice.

"I heard that, DiNozzo," Gibbs growled as he passed by Tony and the agent cringed internally. Right.

"Ziva, find some good place to stash our friend here," he said and practically handed Strate over to Ziva. She nodded and headed over to the elevator, one hand clutching Strate's good arm. Gibbs, Ducky and Tony followed them into the car and rode in silence until they reached Ducky's floor.

"Come on, my boy, time to go," Ducky said and pulled Tony out of the elevator.

"Uh... boss?" Tony tried to protest. All he got was a small wave from Ziva and a glare from Gibbs.

"When you finish, meet me up at Abby's lab," his boss instructed before the elevator door closed. Tony let out a groan and followed Ducky to Autopsy, hoping that whatever the M.E. had planned would be fast and painless.

oOoOo

The lab was, like always, alive with music and Abby was bopping around some of her machinery while McGee was busy typing away on the computer. None of them heard Gibbs enter, but Abby somehow felt him with her inner radar. She turned and, with a squeal, jumped up to hug him, only to give him a slap on the arm in the next second.

"What was that for?" he asked.

"I _knew_ you would get into trouble!" Abby reproached him. "McGee told me everything. How's Tony? Does he really look like he went ten rounds with Ali?" she asked with concern and Gibbs had an urge to slap McGee on the head. He settled for a glare that made McGee turn a rather interesting shade of red.

"Nah, only three," Gibbs joked and got another slap for his efforts.

"Not funny," Abby pouted and looked around. "Where is he?"

"With Ducky. He'll come here as soon as they finish. Now, give me the bad news, Abs," he said and Abby raised her eyebrows.

"How do you know I have bad news?"

"I can tell by the way McGee is hiding behind that computer," Gibbs said and Abby looked around just in time to see McGee straightening up and trying to look brave. She chuckled and turned back to Gibbs.

"It's not exactly _bad_ news. More like... no good news?" she tried, but seeing the raised eyebrows, quickly continued.

"I've run the gun through the database and found a match to an old case from last year. It was a robbery with an attempted murder. Two masked man robbed a gas station at three a.m. The attendant was shot when he tried to pull a gun on them. He survived; we got the bullet but no trail. The case is still open but there are no suspects." While talking, she pulled up some files on the monitor with pictures from the CCTV.

"So the gun was used previously. Any fingerprints?"

"Only partials. Whoever had the gun was wearing gloves, but I've got some blood samples. I'm running it through the DNA database... if the guy had a record, we'll get him," she said with a smile. Gibbs nodded.

"Okay. If anything comes up, let me know. I'll be in MTAC."

"You're the boss," Abby said and Gibbs was already by the door when the computer chimed and Abby gave another squeal.

"Gibbs, wait! We've got a match!"

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

**_A/N_**:_ Hey folks. First I want to say SORRY for not updating sooner. I know it's not an excuse, but I've got a new job and it kinda took most of my time or energy with it. Thanks to all of you who are still reading and especially to those who kept sending reviews and asking about the next update, lol. I know this chapter isn't long, hopefully it will get the story back on track. I can't promise anything, but I will try and update at the start of the next week. This chapter was betaed by everybetty, so big thanks to her too BG._

Smokescreens

Chapter 12

Tony let out a sigh when the elevator door closed and the car started moving. He'd spent the last half hour in Autopsy, alternately listening to Ducky's muttering about Ziva's driving talents and Gibbs' stubbornness, while being on the unfortunate end of the M.E.'s focus.

Still trying to blink away the spots in his vision he'd gotten from the penlight that'd been shone at his eyes, Tony made a hasty retreat as soon as Ducky gave him a chance. His first stop was at the head, to splash some water on his face and drive away the dizziness that was still lingering from the drive. Catching his image in the mirror, he cringed and gently reached up to touch the already livid bruise that was his left cheek. Luckily, it wasn't broken but he doubted it could've hurt more even if it was. Wincing at the pain, he let his hand fall back and let out a weary sigh. He was really becoming tired of being the punching bag of the week. He could really used a break... either in the case or real life. Maybe he could take a vacation once both cases they were working on were closed.

He was still leaning against the sink when someone else entered the room. Casting a quick glance at the arrival, Tony pulled himself together and left, heading for Abby's lab.

Surprisingly, the music was down to a bearable level; that or he'd already suffered some hearing loss. He looked through the lab, using the fact that Abby didn't see him. She was turned with her back to him, studying something in her microscope. McGee was behind the glass wall, typing on the computer and looking totally immersed in his job. There was no sign of Gibbs.

Deciding it was time to face the music, Tony cleared his throat. Abby spun around with a smile that changed into a frown the moment she saw the new bruise, but she still encircled him in a bear hug that made him gasp for air. Once satisfied that he was truly alive and well, she pulled away and hit him in the arm.

"Ouch!" Tony protested, rubbing at the sore limb. "What was that for?" he frowned and got another one just for good measure. "Abs!" he protested and she settled for a scowl.

"That's for getting yourself hurt, Mister! And I'm really considering spilling all your secrets to Ziva and McGee."

"What?" Tony yelped, horrified at the prospect. "It wasn't my fault, Abs! And it isn't like I asked for Strate to meet me at my apartment, either. Just for the record, I didn't even take a look at those files you gave me, I swear," he said with his best hurt puppy look, which he had specially practiced for Abby's benefit.

The stern scowl on her face remained two more seconds, then she broke into a grin and hugged him once more.

Tony let out a relieved sigh that turned into a cough. _That_ wasn't intentional, but seeing as it drew more sympathy points from Abby, he didn't mind too much. But he drew the line when Abby tried to push some CaffPow into his hand. It wasn't that he couldn't stand the stuff, quite the opposite, he'd kinda gotten used to the taste, but the last thing he wanted was another addict on the team. Abby and Gibbs with his coffee were quite enough. Now that he thought of it...

"Where's Gibbs?" he said once he managed to clear his throat.

"MTAC," Abby said before taking a big gulp of the CaffPow.

"Oh," Tony nodded. "And what's McGeek doing in there?" He pointed at the agent that was still working behind the glass door, seemingly unaware of Tony's presence.

"Trying to find the whereabouts of our suspect," Abby supplied with a light grin and turned back to her own work, only to look up again.

"What suspect?" Tony frowned, trying to think about both cases at the same time and getting only a mixed jumble. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he looked at Abby. "Has surveillance lost Elyse Clayton?"

Abby rolled her eyes.

"Nope, as far as I know the other team is keeping tabs on her. I'm talking about Casper's case."

"Oh," Tony mumbled. "Oh!" he added with a little more energy as he realized the implications. "You already checked the gun for fingerprints and DNA, right? You've got a match?"

"Yep!" Abby jumped and turned to the keyboard, pulling up a file on the monitor.

"Tony, meet Archibald Franklin Heaver – otherwise also known as Crispy Archie."

"Huh?" Tony stared at the photo of a rather well built white man with a shaven head and tons of tattoos on the chest and arms. "Crispy?" He repeated the nickname and looked at Abby for explanation.

"He was previously convicted in several cases of arson, the first one while he was still just a kid."

"He likes fire," Tony muttered under his breath but Abby seemed to catch it anyway.

"Yeah, but he's not your usual pyromaniac. I mean, he likes to set things on fire, but just as a means to get rid of evidence. He's a thief. His charges range from breaking and entering to robbery. The last time, he was charged with attempted murder when the owner of the house returned home early and surprised him. Unfortunately, Archie cracked his skull with a statue, then set the house on fire. Luckily the neighbors heard some commotion and called the cops, so the owner survived, and Archie was caught."

"Then why isn't he sitting behind the bars?" Tony asked, then shook his head, wincing.

"Because some hotshot cop that was at the arrest messed it up. The judge called it a 'procedural mistake', so Archie was set free. That was six years ago. But guess who the judge was at that time?"

"That would be the future Senator Leyland," Tony guessed and got a grin in reply. "So all we need is to get Archie and make him talk. Good job, Abby," he said and turned to leave, when he stopped.

"Could you print out that photo?"

"You want to show it to Strate?" Abby asked while the printer was already working and Tony nodded.

"You're a star, Abs, thanks," he said when she handed him the photo.

"Just don't forget it, Tony," she replied with a grin as he left the lab, then turned back to her own work.

OoOoO

When Tony entered the interrogation cell he found it empty. Blinking in surprise, Tony backpedaled and was already pulling out his cell to call Gibbs and tell him that their prisoner had escaped, when something occurred to him and he changed direction, walking to the holding cells that were one floor down. Sure enough, Strate was laid down on the cot in one of the cells; he appeared to be sleeping.

Tony entered the cell, clearing his throat.

The PI languidly opened his eyes and turned his head to look at him. Seeing who it was, he closed them again.

"I see you have all the comfort you need," Tony started, his voice dripping with sarcasm. In truth, however uncomfortable the cot might've looked, Tony envied the man the chance to lay down, knowing that it wouldn't be sooner than several long hours before Tony himself would see a bed, and only if he was lucky enough that Gibbs didn't decide that the safest place for him would be the office.

Strate let out a sigh and tried to ignore the NCIS agent. He was partly successful for the first two minutes that Tony stood silently in the corner, waiting for him to acknowledge his presence, but he quickly lost his patience after Tony started humming some stupid commercial jingle, and quite out of tune, too.

"Oh for god's sake, shut up!" he shouted after five minutes of continuing torture.

Tony came to a stuttering stop. "Ready to talk to me now?" he asked, voice raspy from all the humming.

Strate shot him a murderous look and shook his head.

"I don't have anything to talk about, and definitely not with you!" he spat out and Tony shrugged, making himself comfortable in a chair, the only other furniture in the room.

"Don't get all pissed with me just because we busted you, Strate," Tony growled, getting impatient. "I didn't ask for you to barge into Gibbs' house and hold me at gunpoint."

"I thought I could trust you," Strate replied with a frustrated sigh .

Tony tilted his head, fingers brushing against his tender cheek and Strate grimaced, giving him a half shrug in reply.

"Not like you didn't deserve it," he muttered.

Tony snorted. "You're one to talk. Anyway, I didn't come just to chat. Do you recognize this man?" he asked, showing Strate the photo. He didn't even need to hear the rasped reply; the red flush on the pale cheeks and the gritted teeth were a good enough reply.

"That's the bastard that killed Nate. Did you get him?"

"We're working on it," Tony assured him and stood up to leave, then stopped. "You know, it would really help us to know what happened to the CD. Is it safe?"

"Safer than you or me, Agent DiNozzo," Strate replied with a grin that sent chills down Tony's spine. "Trust me on that. There's no way Leyland will get to it before it's too late."

Tony wanted to ask what he meant by that, he wanted to stay there until Strate told him the truth, but he knew that it would be useless. The man had the same glint in his eyes that Tony often saw in Gibbs' eyes when he set his mind on something.

OoOoO

By the time Tony walked into the bullpen, McGee was already there, along with Ziva. They were both engrossed in the research so Tony sat down, rubbing the back of his neck as he started idly dabbing at the keyboard, only half listening to Ziva's voice speaking with someone on the phone. He was almost dozing off when a sudden noise broke through the background.

"Shit!" McGee cursed and kicked into the table, then instantly looked up into two surprised faces. Tony's mouth was half open and Ziva's hand was clutching the phone cradle in the air, having stopped in mid-motion.

"What the hell, probie?" Tony asked, blinking as the sleepiness left him as suddenly as it came.

"Sorry," McGee offered sheepishly. "I was just..." He shrugged and sighed.

"What's the problem, McGee?" Ziva asked, putting the phone back in its cradle and walking over to McGee's desk. In all the time she'd known him, he wasn't the one to get angry with a computer.

McGee took another calming sigh and with a typical grimace pointed at the monitor.

"Someone's deleting all the files concerning Archibald Heaver!"

"Can you stop them?" Ziva asked and McGee shook his head, his fingers flying over the keyboard frantically.

"Or better, can you trace them?" asked Gibbs from behind them and both Tony and Ziva looked at him, startled.

Only McGee's eyes stayed on the monitor, his face pulled in a scowl. "I'll need to get to Abby's lab for that," he said and, barely waiting for the nod from Gibbs, he ran away.

"Why the hell would someone try to delete Heaver's records now?" Tony asked, puzzled.

"Maybe they'd just realized that Heaver didn't succeed and that he was expose," Ziva replied, thinking.

"But that means that Leyland knows someone's after him and that someone probably knows about his little assassin," Tony mused. "Wouldn't that make Heaver a highly uncomfortable person to Leyland?" He turned to Gibbs and the Marine nodded, taking a sip from his coffee then throwing the empty cup into the bin.

"Which means that we should find Heaver before Leyland does, if he hasn't already. So, any traces?"

"Well, I've printed out Heaver's file from six years ago. There are some names we could check out. There were two men he used to partner up with. I've also got his last address and his car's plate number. The car was sold three years ago, but that's three years after the last address we have, so we could still get some info out of the buyer," Ziva reported and Gibbs gave her a nod while looking at DiNozzo.

"Uhm, I was a little sidetracked, boss, sorry. But on the plus side, Strate gave a positive ID on the Heaver guy. And I was just about to check the hospitals, see if there wasn't any sign of Heaver now that we know who we're looking for.

"Work on it. I'll be at the lab. Hopefully McGee will have more luck."

Gibbs left and Tony sagged back in the chair, exchanging a rueful look with Ziva. As one, they reached for the phones and got back to work. It was only few minutes later as Tony was just trying to ply some information out of a busy receptionist that he heard a familiar voice.

Frowning, he looked up just in time to see the doors to MTAC close and FBI Agent Fornell walk out in a heated debate with Director Sheppard.

Tony blinked, not sure he could trust his eyes. It looked like Strate was right after all.

The Feds had arrived.

TBC


End file.
